




COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 








NANA’S DAUGHTER 




A CONTINUATION OF AND 


SEQUEL TO EMILE ZOLA'S NOVEL OF “NANA.” 

/ 

BY A. SIRVEN AND H. LEVERDIER. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 

IBir STII^XiinSTG^- 

( 

«: 


“ Nana’s Daughter '* zj destined to make a deep sensation among novel-readers. 
It is a sequel to Zola’s zuorld-fanious “ Nana,” but is in many respects superior to 
that great work. Intense and continuous action characterizes it throughout , and 
eatery page is of absorbing interest, while there is no lack of refinetnent and fine feel- 
ing. The aim is to show that evil instincts are not hereditary . Nana is a prominent 
personage in the story, but occupies a more elevated plane than Zola assigns to her. 
Her daughter, Andrte, is a direct contrast to her. Abandoned in injancy by her 
mother, she is adopted and brought up by the Naviels, an upright family belonging to 
the working classes. Nana finds her and strives to gain possession of her, her ejforts 
forming the staple of the story. Andrce is tempted time and again and subjected to 
trials without number, but remains true to her parents by adoption, herself and her 
betrothed, Lucien Despretz, Luciens courtship forming one of the most delightful 
love-idyls ever written. Exciting scenes follow each other in rapid succession, and 
the attention of the reader is so enchained that it is impossible to put down the volume, 
which will be read with great pleasure by every one. All the characters are vividly 
sketched, the plot is of unusual strength and ynerit, and the style of composition is 
vigorous and concish-. The translation of “ Nana’s Daughter ” is by folin Stirling, 
who has done his work conscientiously and well. 




(: JUN 17 ItOi 




y 


Or VI, 




PHILADELPHIA: 

T. B. PETEKSpN & BROTHEES; 
306 CHESTNUT STREET. 

/ / P i / 


COPYRIGHT. 

T. B..:E>ETE3i?.so3sr Sc bi«-oth::ei2<s. 

1881. 








ep 


f 


NANA’S DAUGHTER. 

To Monsieur Emile Zola. 

Monsieur and Dear Confrlre : 

In order to maintain successfully, if possible, the negative of the 
proposition that evil instincts are hereditary, we have borrowed the name 
of your heroine, Nana, so ably dissected by you in a study which, if it 
does not found a school, will, at least, mark an epoch. But, to render this 
woman more odious, we have taken her from the unrefined surroundings 
amid which you left her for nearly five hundred pages, and have raised 
her upon the shield of Parisian elegance. Her language, happily, is 
improved by this change. Hence, freed from those unpolished expressions 
M'hich, doubtless, augmented the sepsation created by your book, our work 
will be found rather Jiatural than whaf. is termed realistic. 

And now, dear confrere, kindly excuse the great liberty we have 
taken in bestowing a daughter upon your heroine. 

The sincere admirers of your genius, 

Alfred Sirven and H. Leverdier. 


CONTENTS. 

Chapter Page 

PROLOGUE 23 

I. ANDRE E AT SCHOOL . i 33 

11. ANDREE AT THE FAIR 40 

m. REST AT LAST 52 

IV. WREATH OF ORANGE BLOSSOMS 58 

V. ANDREE DINES WITH HER EMPLOYER.. 64 

VI. JUDIC PLAYS 69 

VII. THE SUICIDE 74 

VIII. A DAY IN THE COUNTRY 80 

IX. fire! fire! 86 

X. THE GRAND REVIEW 91 

XI. DAN''ER IN THE AIR 96 

XII. THE FATE OF THE BLUE LANDAU 101 

XIII. DREAMS AND FANCIES 106 

XIV. TEMPTATION 112 

XV. nana’s visit 117 

XVI. nana’s boudoir 123 

XVII. ANDREE SPEAKS 128 

XVIII. MABILLE 134 

XIX. THE FATE OF THE GORILLA 140 

XX. nana’s fete 145 

XXL A DUEL IS FOUGHT 154 

XXII. MARGOT THE UNFORTUNATE 158 

XXIII. PLUCK AND DETERMINATION 162 

XXIV. DON GIOVANNI 168 

XXV. A DAINTY SUPPER 174 

XXVI. THE RAJAH 179 

XXVII. SELF DISTRUST 181 

XX Vni. UNWORTHY SUSPICIONS 186 


( 21 ) 


CONTENTS 


22 

Chapter Page 

XXIX. A lovek’s quarrel.. 192 

XXX. andree’s discovery 197 

XXXI. LOCKS AND BARS 203 

XXXII. Luke's discovery..- 208 

XXXIII. IMPENDING DIFFICULTIES 213 

XXXIV. THE RUSSIA LEATHER NOTE CASE 218 

XXXV. A STRANGE MEETING 223 

XXXVI. GOOD ADVICE 228 

XXXVII. ANDREE VISITS THE SICK 233 

XXXVIII. JARDIN DES PLANTES 238 

XXXIX. FACE-A-CLAQUES 244 

XL. THE GRAND HOTEL 249 

XLI. NEW QUARTERS 255 

XLII. THE NEXT MOVE 260 

XLIII. CAMELIAS AND ROSES 265 

XLIV. A MAGDALEN IN TEARS 270 

XLV. A DETERMINATION 276 

XL VI. LETTERS 282 

XLVII. NOTRE DAME 288 

XL VIII. THE MEETING OF TWO WOMEN 294 

XLIX. A DISCOVERY 301 

L. andree’s FAREWELL 306 

LI. lucien’s discouragement 310 

LII. A NEW START 317 

liii. a new enterprise ; 324 

LIV. A HERALD OF DISASTER 330 

LV. THE DEED OF GIFT 335 

LVI. MARTYRDOM 341 

LVII. RETROSPECTION 347 

LVIII. MARGOT MAKES HER PLANS 351 

Lix. oh! happy day! 358 

LX. MARGOT IS FAITHFUL 365 

LXI. WOE AND AGONY 370 

LXII. RETRIBUTION 375 

LXIII. THE TRIAL 380 

LXIV. THE SENTENCE 386 

LXV. AN IDYL 393 

LXVI. THE rajah’s GRAVE 398 

LXVII. THE CONVICT SHIP 404 

LXVIII. EPILOGUE 409 


NAM’S DAUGHTER. 


PROLOaUE. 


T he Commissioner put on his spectacles, and said : 
“Your name, Madame ? ” 

“My name? All Paris knows my name, and you 
certainly have heard me spoken of.!’ 

“ Very likely ; but nevertheless, I ask who you are.” 
“ Nana, of course ! ” 

“ But you have a family name, I presume.” • 

“I, a family name ? My dear sir, as I have never 
had any family, I can hardly be expected to have a 
family name.” 

“It strikes me that you understand then, better than 
any one else, how necessary a mother is to a child, for 
if yours had not abandoned you, you would have led 
a better life.” 

“ You are entirely mistaken, sir. I lead the life for 
whicJi I was created. Besides, why should I do for 
this child, what no one ever did for me ? ” 

“ Simply because you have the means of educating 
it, and of bringing it up — if not under your roof, at 
least at your expense. Your toilette is superb. You 
came here in your own carriage. Your servants — ” 
“None of ail these are mine. My horses, my furni- 
ture, my jewels and my toilettes all belong to Monsieur. 
He bought them all; tlierefore they are his. He is 
liberal enough, but he does not like children. I have 
no light to keep a child in the house, have 1 ? ” 

( 23 ) 


24 


nana’s daughter. 


The magistrate did not repl3^ He was himself a 
little uncertain as to whether he ought not to compel 
this mother to keep the little creature, and whether 
it were just to use the finances of the Assistance Pub- 
lique in this way. But all at once another considera- 
tion struck him. A soul had been brought to him to 
save. Had he any right to throw it back into the 
danger from which it had escaped ? 

This conviction strengthened, and he determined to 
remove the child from the infiuence of the mother, and 
in this way preserve her. His decision was soon made. 

Virginie, Madame’s femme de chambre, held the 
sleeping child in her arms. 

The mother, ennuy^e by these official formalities, 
was moving about the room. She stopped in front 
of a book-case, and was reading the titles now illu- 
minated by the August sunlight, Avithout comprehend- 
ing them in the least. 

The magistrate was making notes, all the time thinking 
of this child, whose destiny weighed on his conscience. 

Nana read aloud these titles, which had a strange 
attraction for her : 

“ ‘ Manuel de Police Judicataire et Administrative' 
That ought to be rather amusing. I wish I was on the 
police force, then I might know something of what 
went on in the homes of other people. ‘ De la Police 
des Moeurs; EjicyclopSdie des Jeux' ” 

The magistrate interrupted her. 

“ I ought to tell you,'’ he resumed, “ that in accord- 
ance with the regulations of Administration of Hospi- 
tals, you cannot see your child, nor know where she is, 
and that you will hear of her only once in three 
months.” 

“ Why is that, sir ? ” 

“Because, in abandoning her, you abandon all your 
rights over her. The Assistance Publique becomes 
your substitute and her legal guardian. The child is 
an orphan, and you are dead.” 

“Precisely — 1 see — You are quite right.” 

“ Have you her certificate of birth? ” 


nana’s daughter. 


25 


“ Yes, sir ; this is it.” 

“Very well. Give it to me, and I will have an 
order made out for admission to the Hospice des 
Hnfants AssistSs.'*'* 

The magistrate rang, and on the appearance of his 
secretar}^ said : 

“Write an order for La Rue d'EnferT 

The secretary wrote, while the magistrate, in a 
clear, ringing voice, dictated the following : 

“To THE Prefecture de Police, 

“ Division^ 5th Bureau^ 

^‘^Paris^ August 14^^, 1860. 

“ The Governor of the Hospice des Enfants Assists s 
is requested to receive from bearer, and to keep for 
the present, an infant of the female sex, fifteen days 
old, having been born on the 30th of last month, 
and registered on the same day at the Mairie of the 

Arrondissement under the name of Nanette. 

The mother professes inability to support this child, 
and it will remain with you until the Prefect of 
Police gives you further instructions, he having this 
day been notified of the facts in this case.” 

“Now,” said the magistrate to his secretary, “copy 
these papers, which must go with the child. Be as 
quick as possible.” 

As he folded a paper, he said : 

“Will you take the child yourself, Madame?” 

“Oh! No, I do not like hospitals, and then, too, 
leaving the child there would not be agreeable ; I 
should make a scene, I fear. Virginie will take it ; I 
will pay for the carriage.” 

“1 have no objections to make, Madame; you can 
do as you please.” 

“We can go then, I suppose? Come, Virginie. 
Good-morning, sir,” and the magistrate bowed slightly. 

Nana raised her train with a movement of serpentine 
grace, and left the room followed by her woman carry- 
ing the child. 


26 


nana’s daughter. 


In front of the door, huge English horses pawed 
the ground and shook their heads impatiently. 

The coachman sat stiff and erect, looking neither to 
the right nor the left. 

The livery was mousquetaire blue, as was the landau. 
The footman, as well as the coachman, wore knee 
breeches and white silk stockings. 

On the doors was painted a gothic N surmounted by 
a coronet. A crowd had collected, as they supposed 
the carriage to belong to the Emperor. 

When Naiia appeared on the threshold, holding in 
one hand her train of blue faille, and allowing her 
satin boots with their Louis Quinze heels to be seen, 
a murmur of admiration arose at her beauty. 

Her blonde hair glittered like an aureole around her 
somewhat low forehead, as low as that of a Greek statue. 
Her almond-shaped e3^es, lined with black, were blue as 
a summer lake. Her nose was straight, with flexible 
nostrils. Her lips were full and brilliantly red, while 
about them lingered a half ironical expression, show- 
ing her white teeth. 

Her hands were small and her gloves reached her 
elbow. Her hat was only a bouquet of roses, through 
which was thrust a dagger with an onyx handle 
encrusted with sapphires. 

With her panther-like grace, her undulating form, 
her tawny hair and gleaming eyes, she stood for a 
moment or two in the sunlight, looking down at the 
pale crowd of working people, who, under the lash of 
hunger, were one and all toiling for their bread. 

A fiacre drove past. 

Nana signalled it. 

The cuachman stopped, and respectfully jumped 
from his seat to open the door. 

Nana kissed the child, and there was a slight tremu- 
lousness in her voice as she said : 

“ Good-by, little one, good-by.” 

Then she added ; 

“ Take care, Virginie, don’t lose that paper.” 

The woman said to the coachman ; 


nana’s daughter. 


27 


“ Hue d'Enfer^ to the Hospital.” 

The man clambered up to his seat again, and the 
fiacre disappeared around the corner. 

Nana stood on the sidewalk looking after the child, 
which had now disappeared forever from her sight, 
but this inaction did not last long ; her late awakened 
maternal affection flickered and went out. She entered 
her landau. The footman closed the door. 

“ Home,” she said, briefly. 

The coachman touched the necks of his horses, and 
the carriage rolled off toward the Boulevards, turning 
to the left in the direction of the Madeldine. 

It was the hour when the crowd was greatest. Men, 
well-dressed and decorated, saluted her as she passed, 
and then continued their lounging walk, with an eye- 
glass in the eye and a cane against the lips. 

Yellow rays of light coming between the tall chim- 
neys gilded the dusty air, illuminated the windows 
of the houses and fell on the rich dresses of the women 
and on the silver mounted harnesses. 

Omnibuses lumbered along, and sorry looking nags 
dragged shabby fiacres, while tall trotting horses with 
slender legs had behind them either light Victorias or 
solid looking coupes, in which sat bald men reading the 
day’s report of the Bourse, while they chewed the ends 
of their extinguished cigars. 

Nana’s landau took the Boulevard Malesherbes, and 
went on as far as Mouceaux. 

Her Hotel looked out on the Park. 

This Hotel was a marvel of elegance. The hot- 
houses alone cost five thousand francs each month. 

The hall was ornamented with Florentine mosaics, 
and a double staircase of rose-colored marble had 
balustrades of green bronze, representing a vine clam- 
bering to the upper landing. 

The first floor was lighted by large windows of 
stained glass, which imparted a cathedral-like aspect to 
this temple ornamented 'with exquisite statues of every 
description, standing in all the corners, half veiled by 
groups of velvety exotics. 


28 


nana's daughter. 


A footman was in the hall awaiting Madame. 

“ Has the Marquis arrived?” she asked. 

“Yes, Madame.” 

She dropped her train, and slowly, with haughty 
grace, ascended the low stairs of rose-colored marble, 
while the silk of her skirts made a delicious rustling 
sound, as they followed the serpentine undulations of 
her stately form. 

The Marquis was waiting for her, reclining on a 
Turkish divan. 

When Madame entered, he did not rise. 

“ Well ! ” he said, “you have got that matter settled, 
I suppose?” 

“Yes, my dear, I have disposed of the child, and I 
hope you are pleased with me. Are you?” 

“ Of course,” he answered. 

She came to his side, and kneeling, kissed him lightly 
on the cheek. He received the kiss, but he did not 
return it. 

“ What are you thinking of?” she asked. 

“ Of nothing, I fancy.” 

“Not even of me?” 

“No, not even of you! ” 

“And yet, I have sacrificed m}^ child for you.” 

“No, Nana, do not let your imagination run away 
with you ; jmu have not made this tremendous sacrifice 
either for the Marquis d’AIbigny or for the old King. 
No, in your heart you laugh at us both. I know 
you, — you love nothing but your own beauty and 
this preposterous luxury with which you are sur- 
rounded — your whims and your caprices, for you are 
all whims.” 

“ What ! was it not to spare you any possible annoy- 
ance from the child that 1 sent it to the Hospital? 
You insisted that I — ” 

“ Confound it all— I did not want it here, of course.” 

“Where is it?” said a man, who at this moment 
entered abruptly. 

“ What do you want, sir? ” asked Nana harshly. 

“1 want my child.” 


nana’s daughter. 


29 


“ Your child ! Did you mistake my house, sir, for a 
Foundling Hospital ? Marquis, will you have the kind- 
ness to get rid of this man for me ? ” 

“By no means, my dear; this scene strikes me as 
inexpressibly droll. Go on, sir; do precisely as you 
would if you were at home.” 

The stranger with folded arms was pacing the room, 
and mechanically followed on the carpet a ray of sun- 
light that streamed into the apartment. 

He was tall, pale and thin. He wore a long beard, 
in which glistened many silvery threads. He suddenly 
stopped before the Marquis. 

“ You told me to do precisely as if I were at home, 
did you not. Marquis ? ” 

“ Most certainly I did.” 

“ V ery well, then, leave this room at once, or I will 
kill you.” 

“ And by what right, sir, if you please ? ” 

“ This woman is the mother of my child.” 

“ I congratulate you,” sneered the Marquis. 

“ The man is an impostor,” said Nana, coldly. 

“ Oh ! of course,” answered d’Albigny, with a sar- 
castic laugh. 

He lifted the portiere and disappeared. 

The stranger stood still. 

“Now, Nana,” he said, “you and I will settle our 
accounts.” 

“Very well, then. Upon my word, this is too much I 
Did you really suppose that Nana could live forever 
among the clouds with you ? You do not know me yet, 
my poor fellow. You do not yet comprehend Nana.” 

“ Hush! some one has rang the bell.” 

“No, it is no one ; some tradesman, or it may be the 
King.” 

“Nana, dear Nana, be good; where is our child? 
You have put it out to nurse have you not? I have 
saved ten thousand francs for the little girl, and 
when she is grown up it will amount to a nice little 
sum. Ten thousand francs, Nana ! Each one of those 
silver pieces represents an hour of my life, a drop of 


30 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


my blood, and I have brought them all to you. Give 
me my daughter.” 

“Your daughter? I have lost her.” 

“ Lost her ?” 

“Abandoned her, I mean — ” 

“ And where ? ” ^ 

“ How do I know ? ” 

“ Where is the child ? ” 

“ I have sold her.” 

“ To whom ? ” 

“ To some circus people.” 

“ That is false.” 

“You are right, it is false; but you bore me to death. 
Do go away — my head aches, and I am tired.” 

“ Hei« are the ten thousand francs.” 

“ Five hundred louis. What a superb sum I If you 
had stolen them now — but I don’t like money that 
has been earned by the sweat of the brow ! ” 

“ Do you mean you wish I had stolen the money ? ” 

“ I do, indeed, for that would prove that you love me 
better than all else.” 

There was a long silence. 

The stranger resumed his restless pacing up and 
down the room, still following the sunlight on the car- 
pet. This same streak of light now touched the bed, 
showed the exquisite ivory carvings set in ebony, 
rested on the spread of white satin embroidered with 
a black sphinx, and gilded the wide spread wings of a 
silver eagle, which from the head of the bed watched 
over Nana’s slumbers. As the sun sank lower, the rays 
entered the room more and more, and showed in 
a remote corner, upon a malachite stand, a bronze 
elephant with a Chinese tower on its back. 

The chairs were low and large and profusely 
cushioned, but their forms were lost on the shining par- 
quette. By degrees the sunlight faded away, and only 
the tops of the candelabra and a bronze statue hold- 
ing a globe caught the light, and were reflected in the 
Venetian glass with its exquisitely chiseled silver frame. 
Suddenly, the sti'aiiger stood still and looked at 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


81 


Nana, who had thrown herself on a lounge near the 
window. The dagger, with its onyx handle, had fallen 
upon the carpet. Her eyes were closed, and she was 
almost asleep, the train of her rich silk being carefully 
wrapped about her feet. Her attitude was perfect, and 
her exquisite profile stood out in the fast gathering 
twilight like that of a marble statue. 

Her parted lips wore almost a smile. The stranger 
kneeled at her feet, and said with trembling lips : 

“Then, Nana, if I had stolen this money for you, 
you would still love me a little ? ” 

She laughed aloud. 

“Who can tell? I am weary of all these people 
whom I, see constantly. Listen! Do you know what 
I was thinking the other day ? I should like an admirer 
who had assassinated some one on my account. I 
should like him to be arrested in my presence and exe- 
cuted at once ! ” » 

“ Where on earth do you get these repulsive ideas? 
You are perverted by all this luxury I see about you. 
Take your child and leave this house. It is not yet 
too late. Each kiss you press on her innocent face will 
make you better ! ” 

“ Poor fellow ! ” 

“ Come with me ; you know how happy we were 
when we were down there in tlie country. We will go 
far away with the little one. I have money enough to 
live some time. Will you come?” 

“Leave me, I tell you. I supped too heavily last 
night, and did not sleep late enough this morning. 
Go ! I say. Do you want me to tell you again that I 
don’t want your money ? ” 

“Very well then, since you insist on knowing it, the 
money that 1 have brought jmu is not mine.” 

“ What are you saying ? ” 

“Just what 1 mean. I took it from my employer. 

I knew you would not go with me, but 1 wanted to 
buy my child, to save her from you I ” 

“And you committed a theft for that? Very good. 
For eight days you have haunted my steps, and it was 


32 


nana’s daughter. 


for this, then? You are a wretch! If you wish to 
educate your daughter, educate her. Now leave me 
or my lackeys shall put you out.” 

He stooped, and picked up the dagger with the onyx 
handle, which lay on the carpet. 

“ Do not ring, Nana, do not denounce me — to-morrow 
I will put back the money — do not say anything about 
it ; I did not know what I was doing.” 

His hand clutched the onyx handle. 

Nana pushed him aside with the strength of a 
panther. “ Do you think to frighten me with that toy ? 
Keep it. I will make you a present of it.” 

She rang the bell. 

A servant appeared. 

“ Show this gentleman out,” she said. 

^''Au revoir^ Madame,” murmured her visitor. 

“ By no means,” answered Nana, with her insolent 
laugh. “ It is farewell, if you please.” 

He went out. 

Nana called to the lackey: 

“Follow that man,” she said, hurriedly, “and have 
him arrested. I will not be tormented in this way ! ” 

The man hesitated. 

“ Make haste ! ” repeated his mistress ; “ do you not 
understand what I say ? He is a thief, I tell you.” 

The valet disappeared behind the portiere, and Nana 
heard him hastily running down the marble stairs. 

It was growing dark. The clock struck seven. 

“ Oh ! ” she murmured, “it is time for the King, and 
I am not ready ! ” 

She rang for her maid, who had just come from the 
Hospital. 

Virginie entered. 

“ Ah ! you have come ! Well ? ” 

“ It is all right, Madame.” 

“ It had to be ! ” answered Nana, with a light sigh. 
“ Light up quickly, and dress my hair. I am expect- 
ing His Majesty.” 


NANA’S DAUGHTER 


CHAPTER I. 

ANDREE AT SCHOOL. 

I T was September. The School in La Rue Croisatiere 
was celebrating its re-opening. The old pupils had 
all brought to the Directress a souvenir of their holi- 
days, and the day of which we write was the first of 
the scholastic year. 

Madame Lafran^ois had served for her pupils a 
frugal breakfast of pork chops, ceufs d la neige^ cakes, 
strawberries and chocolate cream. The young faces 
around the table were gay and happy ; eyes and mouths 
were widely opened. 

One little girl, a pretty blonde of ten, said aloud : “ I 
wish I could live on eggs and cream, I do not like meat.” 

“My child,” answered Madame Lafran9ois, “you need 
all your strength, and you must build yourself up in 
order that, in two or three years’ time, you may be able 
to aid your parents by your work.” 

Madame Lafran^ois was a woman of forty, who must 
have been very beautiful in her youth, but the severity 
of her perpetual black robe with its straight and cling- 
ing folds, the austerity of her smooth bands of hair, and 
more especially her blue spectacles which guarded her 
feeble sight from the light, Avould have inspired her 
“ dear girls,” as she called them, with respect mingled 
with fear, but for the gentle sweetness of her voice. 

She was goodness itself toward her pupils, and 

( 33 ) 


34 


nana’s daughter. 


treated them with a certain serious dignity which in 
no way repressed them. She participated in their 
games, but generally managed to combine improvement 
with recreation. Her method of teaching consisted in 
arousing the mental abilities of the girls by appealing 
to their intelligence rather than to their memories. 

She wished to form thinking beings, true women capa- 
ble of loving deeply and with devotion, but not blindly. 
She meant them to know how and why, and did not 
allow them to follow the dictates of mere instinct. 

She had only one fault — a weakness for Andr^e, 
the pretty ’donde who had spoken of her liking for 
cream and ggs. 

Andree Naviel was wonderfully pretty, the type of 
a Parisian child, delicate looking, with a certain easy 
grace, a slow, deliberate way of speaking, a ringing 
voice, and large, clear blue eyes. She was the daugh- 
ter of a machinist employed in a foundry, and of his 
wife who made artificial roses at Paillardin’s. 

The child was quick to understand works of Art and 
of Imagination, but for arithmetic she entertained the 
most profound horror. “ The fact is, Madame,” she 
said, “ figures make me feel as if ants had got into my 
brain ! ” She invariably relapsed into dreams and 
reveries, whenever Madame Lafran^ois undertook to 
explain to her the mysteries of multiplication, which 
form of arithmetic is supposed to be somewhat neces- 
sary to housekeepers. She did not believe in evil, and 
might easily do wrong without suspecting it. This 
peculiarity might later be the rock on which she would 
founder, and Madame Lafran^ois was greatly disturbed 
by Andr^e’s faith in every one, and endeavored to put 
her on her guard against the many dangers which she, 
as a matter of course, must encounter when she entered 
the world. She pointed out to the child the perils 
to which her ignorance and her audacity must alike 
expose her, and dwelt on the colorless life wiiich a 
woman who earns her bread must necessarily lead. 

But all this was in vain. Andree determined to see 
nothing but poetry and light. 


nana’s daughter. 


35 


The child’s gift was a bouquet of roses made by 
Madame Naviel and copied from Nature. Madame La- 
frangois placed this bouquet in a vase of Japanese 
faience in the centre of the table. 

The walls of the class-room were hung with maps 
and with other work done by the pupils wlio had 
taken prizes, and formed a most interesting collection. 
There were crayon drawings, flowers painted in water 
colors, painted china, and fans both of wood and ivory. 

This little collection of the older pupils inspired the 
new comers with the ambition to do as well^nr better. 

This school of Madame Lafrancois was Jof those 
known as Professional Schools, where the lessons of the 
afternoon are intended to teach them some trade, by 
which a young girl can earn her bread at home. 

They received lessons in china painting and on silk 
fans. They were taught to make artificial flowers and 
to embroider in the most exquisite fashion. 

Those who had voices were taught to sing, but use- 
ful things were more especially attended to. 

At the end of dessert there was a little incident 
which was especially calculated to appeal to these 
youthful imaginations. 

A cage was brought in filled with birds and placed in 
the centre of the table where Andr(^e’s bouquet had 
stood, and the Instructress, lifting her hand, enjoined 
silence. 

“ My children,” she said, “ there are among you sev- 
eral Alsaciennes whose parents, having chosen France, 
have been driven from their native land by the 
invaders. Some among 3’our compatriots have sided 
with the invaders, preferring comfort to liberty, 
material security to the welfare of their country. 

“ These birds are about to give you their opinions on 
this subject. Their country is Heaven and Liberty. 

“ Andr^e, m^^ child, scatter these seeds and cake and 
sugar near their cage.” 

Andr^e, who was very serious, quietly obeyed. 

“ And now open the door of the cage.” 

Three pairs of little hands eagerly unfastened the 

2 


36 


NANA'S DAUGHTER. 


door. The windows of the class-room opened on the 
recreation- court, in the centre of which stood a tall 
poplar tree, the leaves of which quivered in the fresh 
breeze. 

The little crowd of children waited -in profound 
silence. A male sparrow with a black head had 
perched on the open door. He looked out of the 
corner of his eye at the dainties before him, but his 
good sense won the day — he shook his head and 
spread his gray wings, and was gone through the open 
casement. 

The example thus given, the others followed. There 
was a general flight and a merry chirping among the 
little creatures outside. 

Madame Lafran^ois closed the cage, and said : 

“This prison is forever useless to us. We will sell 
it, and with the money we receive for it, we will buy 
seeds to throw to the liberated birds.” 

After breakfast, the whole school went to Saint 
Cloud by boat, which was the great feature of the fete. 
The sun was shining on the damp grass in the Jardin 
des Plantes, while beyond, the towers of Notre Dame 
stood out against a sky where the clouds were passing 
away after a heavy shower. The huge piles of masonry 
looked, between the two arms of the river, like the 
formidable skeleton of some beast left there after the 
deluge. 

The boat passed through the shadows of the towers, 
passed under the Pont Neuf^ the galleries of the 
Louvre, the Tuileries, the ruins of la C our des Coinptes^ 
and then turned a little to the left to reach the Pont 
du Jour. 

They stopped at the foot of the viaduct to land some 
passengers, and then went swiftly on. 

^ Saint Cloud appeared before them a little to the 
right, on an eminence half concealed amid trees, and by 
the well wooded undulations of the hills around it, 
from among which rose heavy clouds of smoke, marking 
the passage of the various trains which ran to Ver- 
sailles. 


nana’s daughter. 


37 


As soon as Bellancourt was reached, the little 
party heard the confused noises of the Fair to which 
they were going, and the nearer they got to Saint 
Cloud, the louder became the discordant symphony of 
shouting clowns and boasting Hercules, the cries of the 
peddlers and showmen, and the incessant undercurrent 
of the murmuring crowd, like a heavy bass. 

At the foot of the bridge the boat stopped. Madame 
Lafran^ois watched her girls land, and followed them 
through the crowd, marching as a rear guard to pick up 
stragglers. But as Andr^ie Naviel was at the head of 
the column, it frequently broke, for she ran from one 
thing to another — from a swing to a Russian railroad, 
from a tilt to a lottery, with frank exclamations of joy 
and wonder. But the thing she particularly wished to 
see, was a circus ring, where the strong men were 
performing. The bronze nudity of their biceps, amused 
her immensely. The women too in their short skirts, 
interested her greatly. 

For more than a year Andr^e had been full of 
strange whims. She had fancies and caprices, like 
those of a Bohemienne or a Mountebank, and evinced, 
like most Parisian children, an inordinate desire to be 
noticed and to be admired. 

A certain unconscious coquetry was shown in all her 
movements. But with all this she was gentle, sweet 
and loving, not in the least understanding why she was 
lectured for her many inconsequent acts. Her enthusi- 
asm was not to be controlled ; she wept and laughed 
without knowing why, and was eager in the pursuit of 
the happiness she was either to receive or to give. 

She was a strange little girl — already a woman in 
some respects, and in others, altogether too much of a 
child — ignoring almost everything serious, which those 
who loved her felt anxious that she should understand, 
and throwing everything else aside. To a keen 
observer, Andr^e Naviel would have offered the great 
attraction of mystery. 

Her parents were honest working people, intelligent 
and skilled in their trades, people of irreproachable 


38 


na^^a's daughter. 


honesty, of g^ood common sense and utterly without 
imagination, loving order and regularity — in short, 
they belonged to that good, solid class, whose robust 
muscles and well-controlled nerves, produce as a rule 
a generation of children physiologically different from 
this frail Andrde, in whom seemed to be combined 
two totally antagonistic natures. 

Madame Lafran^ois thought much and seriously of 
the future of this child. She asked herself if the 
austere example of the Naviels would suffice to 
restrain this wandering imagination within bonds, 
and repress this precocious curiosity by which she was 
herself often startled and dismayed. But the natural 
sweetness of Andr^e, her fear of doing wrong, and her 
profound repentance when she thought she had grieved 
her kind teacher, or any one whom she loved, soon 
reassured her ; but her interest in the child was exces- 
sive — her aristocratic face and bearing, which seemed 
to set her apart from the people, interested her like a 
problem. 

Whenever she went out with the child, she was 
uneasy and always kept her as closely at her side as 
possible, and on the day of which we write, she was 
greatly disturbed at seeing all her pupils scattered 
through the crowd. After a little, however, they 
reached a comparatively empty space, and Madame 
Lafran9ois was able to reassemble her flock again. 

She glanced quickly around the circle, to see that 
they were all there. 

“Where is Andr^e?” she asked in a trembling 
voice. 

“ We do not know, Madame,” answered several of 
the pupils together. “ We thought she was with you.” 

“ Heaven grant that no harm has come to the child ! ” 
she cried. “ You all wait here for me, I am going to 
look for her. Remember, no one of you is to move 
from this spot.” 

And Madame Lafran^ois went around the grounds, 
half running, and becoming more and more excited, 
asking questions at the various booths, at the tilt, and 
at every place which was likely to interest a child. 


nana’s daughter. 


39 


Sometimes, the people whom she jostled as she 
hurried past, pushed her rudely aside, taking this 
woman, in her black dress and blue spectacles, for an 
insane person ; more than once some insulting epithet 
was shouted after her, which, however, she did not 
hear. 

Exhausted and out of breath, despairing and heart- 
sick, good Madame Lafran^ois returned to the place 
where she had left her other pupils, but Andr^e had 
not appeared. 

Then she recalled all the stories she had heard of 
children stolen by Mountebanks, in order to be trained 
to their profession, and who, led from Fair to Fair, 
ended by becoming accustomed to this kind of nomadic 
life, and to its shameless vagabondage. 

Then sadly, with an aching heart, she took her 
pupils back to Paris. She indulged in the hope that 
Andr^e, having lost her companions, had returned 
to the house of her parents ; but on reaching her 
school, she met on the very threshold Madame Naviel 
who, in her best attire, had come for her daughter. 

She had been presented with three tickets for the 
circus, and as Andree adored horses and gymnastic 
feats, the excellent mother had come for her that they 
might enjoy the pleasure together. 

“ Where is the child ? ” she said to Madame La- 
fran^ois. 

The Instructress, deadly pale, looked at the mother, 
in whose face already appeared a certain anxiety. 

‘‘ What have you done with my child ? ” persisted 
Madame Naviel. 

Madame Lafran^ois had not strength to reply, but 
burst into tears. 


40 


NANA's DAUGIlTEll. 


CHAPTER II. 


ANDREE AT THE FAIR. 

HEN Andree discovered that she was alone, she 



vv spent considerable time in looking for her com- 
rades, and for good Madame Lafran^ois, who she 
knew would be excessively anxious at her disappear- 


ance. 


But the various attractions about her, the noise and 
gay confusion, the Mountebanks and Charlatans, the 
man with the learned seals, and the three legged woman 
soon put everything else out of her mind. 

First she stopped before a parti -colored tent 
bedizened with gay flags, which lighted up the whole 
avenue. 

The fountains were playing, and this was in itself a 
marvellous sight. The spray rose in feathery masses, 
and cascades fell in clear sheets, while afar off stood 
the tall chestnut trees, the golden glory of the setting 
sun shining through the branches and leaves browned 
by the summer’s heat. 

Near the fountains were the wooden horses, moving 
to the sound of trumpets. Among the crowd of young 
people, happy and gay, were three young girls. Andrde 
wished she could join them and ride with them, on the 
wooden horses, but she had only just money enough to 
take her back to Paris. 

Near by was a long covered wagon, at the door of 
which a man in a velvet coat invited every one to come 
in and see his “ beautiful Irma.” 

“ You must not go without seeing Irma,” he cried in 
a voice of great earnestness. “ You must not die 
until you have seen Irma I ” 

Andree felt a vague desire to be Irma, the beauty of 
beauties, who could be seen for two sous. 

She repressed a sigh, and continued to wander 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


41 


among the crowd, pursued by unconscious regret for 
her poverty and by the hoarse cry of the man. 

“ You must not die without seeing Irma ! ” 

The child stopped before a platform on which a 
wrestling match had just come to an end. A spectacle 
which here met her eyes for the first time, nearly took 
her breath away. 

Upon the platform, a poor devil in a Pierrot costume 
was acting a little scene with a Hercules. The contrast 
between the two men to Andr^e was most startling. 

The Hercules was short, brawny and hideous, the 
full lipped bestiality of his red face heightened b}^ his 
violent exercise. His uncovered arms, the color of 
bronze, were tattooed above the biceps. The muscles 
of his limbs and of his massive neck stood out like 
ropes. He looked around him with grim ferocity, 
his eyes veined with red were set deep in the shadow 
of heavy brows, while his forehead disappeared under 
a shock of coarse hair much streaked with gray. 

The Pierrot was a head taller than the Hercules, 
his hollow cheeks whitened with flour, his reddened 
eyes and emaciated face, his long slender hands and 
thin frame, almost lost in the amplitude of his costume, 
inspired Andr^e with intense curiosity and sympathy. 

The dialogue was mingled with kicks and with very 
sorry jests. 

Pierrot seemed to Andr4e, the incarnation of mind 
which laughs at brute force, and the Hercules, like 
the incarnation of brute force avenging itself. Blows 
rained down on Pierrot, and resounded upon his back. 

And these were not blows to be laughed at either, 
for there was an absolute avalanche of slaps on first 
one poor powdered cheek, and then the other, which 
often threw the clown flat on the platform. 

The crowd thought this excessively funny, but 
Andr^e had never seen anything so revolting. Her 
heart swelled with compassion for this poor battered 
being. Finally, the Hercules gave Pierrot a kick of 
such vigor that he was lifted from the platform, and 
thrown over the railing among the crowd. 


42 


NANA'S D A U G li 1’ E R . 


The poor fellow tumbled almost at Andr^e’s feet. 
A universal shout of laughter went up from the crowd, 
and this shout was echoed from each avenue, even the 
cascade repeated in its silvery notes these joyous 
sounds. 

The Hercules was applauded and Pierrot, as he rose 
with difficulty, was loudly hissed. Andr^e went up to 
him, as he went limping away. 

“You are hurt, sir,” she said in her fresh, yonisg 
voice, trembling from head to foot with timidity as she 
spoke. 

The clown stopped, startled by this one kind voice 
among the universal hisses. 

He looked at the pretty child, and his pale face was 
irradiated by a strange expression of tenderness. 

“No, my child,” he answered, “I am not hurt; it is 
my way of earning my living, besides. Eacli man has 
his trade. I am called Face-d- Claques.^ Some men 
receive decorations, whereas I receive cuffs and blows, 
and it will be just the same so long as my uncle in 
America lives. Is not that so. Monsieur Hercules?” 

“ Of course it is, Monsieur Face-d- Claques — of course 
it is,” answered the Hercules in his coarse voice, as he 
stood in the attitude of a fighting gladiator, with his 
arms folded and his legs set far apart. 

Andr^e answered, with the frankness of a child : 

“ I should prefer to see you work.” 

“ You are quite right, little one,” said the pale man, 
familiarly ; “ but I can’t get honest work to do, yon 
see, and unfortunately, one must eat — even I must do 
that, though I confess I don’t look much like it.” 

This odd dialogue between the clown and the child, 
interested the crowd, who quickly formed a circle 
around them. The Hercules thundered out: 

“ Well! Monsieur Face-d- Claques^ do you intend to 
stay down there all night ? ” 

“I am coming. Monsieur Hercules, I am coming,” 
answered the Pierrot, who continued hastily, address- 
ing Andr^e : “ How happens it that you are alone here ? 
Where is your mother ? ” 


nana’s daughter. 


43 


“ In Paris, with my father. I came here with my 
comrades; but I have lost them — ” 

“ Wlien do you propose to finish your gossip, White 
Face ? ” shouted the Hercules. 

“I am coming, sir. Would you like to see the 
play?” continued Pierrot to Andree ; “I will give you 
a good seat.” 

The child’s cheeks flushed with joy. 

“ Say yes, can’t you ? I have some cakes for you 
too, if you will have them.” 

“ Thanks, Monsieur Pierrot,” answered Andree, 
kindly. “ I should like to see the phi}^ ; but as for 
the cakes, you had better keep them for your own 
children.” 

“ My children ! I have none now. I once had a 
little girl, who would now be about your age ; but 
when she was a week old, I saw her no more — she was 
taken away from me, and I have never seen her since.” 

“ Who took her away ? ” 

“ Her mother — a wretch of a woman, a — ” 

Face-d- Claques was here interrupted, for the Hercu- 
les, descending from the platform, had taken him by 
the ear, and now led him away. 

“ Don’t tear off my ear. Monsieur Hercules, for it 
would never grow again on me; while with you, strong 
as you are, it is very different. I dare say, under the 
same circumstances, yours would grow again.” 

The Hercules did not understand, but he^ laughed 
with an air of great superiority. 

Then Pierrot said something in a low voice. 

“ Good ! ” answered the athlete. “ Come on ! ” he 
continued, addressing Andree. 

“ Come and see the play, little one,” added the 
clown. 

Andrde, in considerable agitation, hurried up the 
steps of the tent. Pierrot took her by the hand and 
gave her an excellent seat in the front row, and the 
orchestra began to play furiously. A tall, thin woman, 
tanned by exposure to sun and wind, played the big 
drum and cymbals, another performed on the piston, 


44 


nana's daughter. 


while a musician with long hair of a dirty blond — the 
hair of a need}" German — blew his clarionet with the 
grave and haughty air of an unhappy virtuoso. 

During the concert, Faee-d-Olaques and Hercules 
outside, bandied words and jokes for the delectation of 
the crowd, varied by taunts and challenges from tire 
athlete to any adventurous amateur. 

Through the entrance, the crowd outside could be 
seen. Near the basin, under a red umbrella, a pastry- 
cook, wearing an oddly shaped cap of gilt paper, 
extended to the children a bit of gingerbread tied to 
the end of a flexible branch. This gingerbread was to 
belong to the boy who succeeded in catching it with 
his teeth. All around this man was a mass of little 
faces, with open mouths. The curious stopped to see 
the end of this experiment, which was a new kind of 
fishing for them. 

The wrestlers’ tent was rapidly filling up, and the 
orchestra went inside and took their seats. People 
were becoming impatient, and it was buzzed about that 
a gentleman had made a bet of a thousand louis that 
he would throw the Hercules. It was for this man 
then that they were waiting, for every seat was full. 

Presently there was a little stir. A woman with 
very light hair, sparkling with diamonds and covered 
with lace, entered the arena, and stood surrounded by 
her little circle of men of all ages. 

“Bring some chairs, Face-d-Claque8 shouted the 
Hercules, “ and move quickly, too ! ” 

The clown stood utterly transfixed, stupefaction and 
terror written on his face. Suddenly he threw back 
his head and answered : 

“ No, sir. Madame may seat herself wherever she 
pleases, for all me.” 

“It is very strange,” murmured the blonde. “I 
have certainly heard that voice somewhere.” 

Pierrot s refusal was so decided, that Hercules con- 
cluded that it was hardly worth while to resist. 

“As you will, my good friend,” he muttered, resign- 
ing himself ; “ but you shall pay for this, later ! ” 


nana’s daughter. 


45 


The clown shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Which of these gentlemen desires to measure 
himself with me ? ” asked the athlete. 

“ I do,” replied a man who was no longer young. 

“ Bravo ! Marquis, bravo ! ” clamored his compan- 
ions. 

“Hush!” said the amateur. “I do not see the 
necessity of placing my name and my title at the head 
of the articles the morning papers will contain.” 

“ Monsieur had best take off his coat,” said the 
athlete. 

The contest commenced with several feints. Arms 
were intertwined, but the grasp of each was quickly 
broken, and the adversaries stood opposite each other, 
each firm on his feet. The real combat had not yet 
begun ; as yet only a skirmish had taken place. But 
suddenly they rushed forward. 

Hercules seized the Marquis ; but that gentleman 
quickly turned, and presented his back to his oppo- 
nent; then raising his arms, he clasped them around 
the man’s neck and made one superhuman effort. The 
athlete raised from the ground, leaped over the head 
of the Marquis and came down on his feet. 

The crowd applauded frantically; but Andrde compre- 
hended nothing of what she saw. She had heard a 
clown refuse to bring a chair to tins golden-haired lady, 
who was as dazzling as a fairy. She saw a man, whose 
friends addressed him as Marquis, enter a ring to 
wrestle with a vulger athlete, at a Fair. She was almost 
stupefied, but, at the same time, interested in Face^d- 
Claques^ whose tall form and pale face she perceived on 
the other side of the arena. The expression of his 
face seemed to have suddenly changed. A terrible and 
mysterious passion was but indifferently concealed 
under the mask of powder. 

Andr^e’s attention was for the moment distracted. 
The contest, suspended for an instant, now re-com- 
menced very seriously. 

The athletes grasped each other at the same moment, 
shoulder against shoulder, and cheek against cheek. 


46 


nana’s daughter. 


They stood thus for a moment, panting like savage 
beasts, waiting each to take advantage of the other. 

The amateur turned pale. The red face of the 
Hercules became purple. Suddenly he broke away. 
The Marquis fell on one knee. The other attempted 
to grasp him ; but the Marquis rose as if touched by a 
spring, and with a violent blow of his back in the 
stomach of the other, threw him on his left side ; and 
then leaping upon him with all his weight, pressed him 
down upon the sand. The shoulders of the Hercules 
had touched. 

“Hurrah! bravo!” shouted the crowd. 

The victor quietly lifted a curtain and entered the 
mountebank’s room, to dress. The Hercules followed 
him. 

Face-d- Claques had planted himself directly behind 
the blonde lady, where he could look down upon her. 
His head was that of Death ; his Pierrot garments 
wrapped him about like a winding sheet. 

She turned and saw this apparition. 

“What have you done with my child, Nana?” he 
asked. 

“ Heavens ! ” she replied, “ where have I heard that 
voice ? ” 

“ In your own room, woman ! ” answered the clown. 

At this moment, the Marquis came back. 

“ D’Albigny,” she said, “ chastise this fellow, who 
has insulted me.” 

“Yes,” said the clown, “I insulted her. I asked 
Madame to give me the child.” 

“ Ah ! ” sneered the Marquis. “ By the way, my 
dear, is not this your thief?” 

“No, Monsieur, I am not a thief, for I have returned 
the money ; while you — ” 

“ Don’t hesitate ; go on, my friend. If what you 
say does not suit me, I can soon silence you.” 

“ Silence me ! and why ? Because I am a clown 
at a Fair? You, sir, wrestle iii public with mounte- 
banks, and give five louis to Hercules that he may 
allow you to win the victory ; and as you have made 


nana’s daughter. 


47 


bets amounting to a thousand with your friends, you 
have made by your hour’s work, nine hundred and 
ninety-five louis. Now tell me, if you please, who is 
the thief to-day ? ” 

D’Albigny was deadly pale. Hercules, in the centre 
of the arena, was delighted that Pierrot was exposing 
the truth of the transaction. 

‘‘ Why do you not silence your servant ? ” cried 
Nana. “ Why do you allow him to insult this gentle- 
man?” 

“Excuse me, Madame, it is not in our agreement 
that I should interfere. As Monsieur is so strong, he 
can make himself respected without my assistance.” 

Nana turned to her adorers, but they had all disap- 
peared as soon as they thought it likely that they 
should be called upon to aid her. 

“ Come, let us go,” said the Marquis, “ I have had 
quite enough of this. As for 3^011, you had better take 
3^ourself out of 1113^ reach, unless 3'ou wish to be put 
inside a prison cell.” 

“ And wh3% pray ? Let us all go. The Marquis to 
Mazas — the lass to Saint-Lazare.” 

D’Albigny did not hear the clown’s last words, for 
they were drowned in a formidable hiss. 

“ Enough ! Enough ! ” shouted the spectators ; “ put 
the wranglers out — let them quarrel elsewhere.” 

“It is scandalous — perfectly scandalous — honest 
people are everywhere insulted under 3’'our Republic!” 
cried a gentleman with a much stiffened moustache, 
standing up in his seat as he spoke; “ought not these 
canaille to be sent to Noumda?” 

“Excuse me, sir, but whom do you call the canaille 
here ? ” asked Hercules. 

“ I was not speaking to you,” answered the man with 
the fierce moustache, subsiding into the crowd like a 
Jack ill the box. 

“ That is all 1 wanted to know,” the athlete replied, 
with a roar of laughter. 

Meanwliile, the woman with the blond hair had 
taken her departure, and Face-d- Claques had returned 


48 


nana’s daughter. 


to Andr^e’s side. lie had bought a large cake at the 
pastry cook’s which he offered to the child. 

“ Thanks, Monsieur Face — ” 

She checked herself thinking that this name was not 
altogether complimentary to this fantastic friend, whom 
she had made in the beginning of her escapade. 

‘‘Call me Face-d- Claques^ if you will — it does me no 
harm, and I am used to it. My child would haye been 
just your age, chSrie ! ” 

A tear made a black mark on the chalky pallor of 
his cheek. 

Andrde was greatly impressed by hearing this poor 
Pierrot speak so gently to her, after haying so cruelly 
humiliated a great Lord. 

“Attention, Monsieur Face-d- Claques^ if you please,” 
cried Hercules. “ Come and hit me.” 

“So I will, master,” answered the clown, turning 
away from the child. “ I only wish that I were sure 
you would not hit back ! ” 

The Brothers Fiotte now appeared and gaye an 
exhibition. These were two boys about the age of 
Andr^e. They began by leaping through paper hoops 
which Hercules tossed to the clown, who held them 
about as high as his head. 

“ Passengers for the moon, up with you I ” shouted 
the clown. 

This witticism greatly amused the crowd ; the two 
little fellows were wonderful gymnasts for their years, 
but at the last one of them fell on his head, and receiyed 
a seyere injury. He lay extended on his back deadly 
pale, and with the blood streaming' from nose and 
mouth. The spectators were horrified, and a woman 
fainted. Some of the good people murmured that it 
was abominable to allow such things ; that Goyernment 
ought to interfere, but these yery people would haye 
been the first to grumble had the Police exercised their 
right of suryeillance oyer this circus tent. 

Hercules came forward to explain that owing to the 
accident the per^mance could not continue, and the 
spectators slowly ^^ersed. 


nana’s daughter. 49 

The clown returned to Andree, who had not moved 
from her seat. 

“Yon had best go now, petite,” said the man, “this 
is no place for you.” 

“ Tell me. Monsieur Pierrot,” asked Andree, “ is the 
boy much hurt ? ” 

“ No, I guess not, he will recover after a while. Go 
away now, petite.” 

It was quite dark within the circus, but outside, the 
yellow light of the lamps was to be seen through the 
striped coverings of the booths. From the screened 
corner where the mountebanks were dressing, Andree 
heard a hoarse voice say: 

“Now, come here, and I will settle with you ! ” 

Childish sobs were heard in reply, and a boyish 
voice answered : 

“ Please, sir, don’t beat me to-day. I know I have 
done very badly, but — ” 

“A good whipping will teach you to do better 
another time,” Hercules replied, roughly. 

Then came a sound of heavy blows and the cries 
and groans of a child. 

“ Mercy ! master — mercy for to-day.” 

“ You fool ! You awkward idiot ! You are good for 
nothing ! You are a disgrace to my tent ! ” 

A blow accompanied each opprobrious epithet. 

“You hear?” whispered the clown; “it is thus that 
children who are stolen are treated among us. Be off 
with you, I say, and as quickly as possible.” 

Andree rose hastily, but she felt a strange unwilling- 
ness to leave the clown. She wanted to take him 
with her. 

“ VV on’t you come too. Monsieur Face — ” 

Face-d- Claques^ if you please, petite. No, I can’t 
go with you. I must remain here.” 

“But he will beat you, too.” 

“ I dare say, but only in public, that is what he pays 
me my salary for. You see, petite, I must earn my 
bread somehow. Now tell me where you live. I will 
not call on your parents, for I cai^^^ longer present 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


5 ^ 

myself in society, for nowadays, I am only Pierrot — 
only Face-d- Claques. I am anything you please except 
some one ! ” 

As the clown spoke he took the child by the hand 
and led her from the tent. 

It was night. There was still a faint light in the 
West, but the stars were out above. The clown looked 
up for a moment, and then stood still and listened. 

“ He has finished beating the boy. You need not be 
troubled, he is not fool enough to kill the goose that 
lays the golden eggs. Besides, the Master is not really 
so brutal as he looks.” 

“I live in La Hue Oroisatiere^ quite near the Ecole 
Professionelle^^' answered Andr^e Naviel to the ques- 
tion her friend had asked. “ Come and see us.” 

“ I tell you I cannot, petite,” answered the clown, 
sadly, “ but when I pass the house I will look at your 
door — perhaps you may be at your window, but you 
will not recognize me in my every day dress — but that 
will not matter, I shall have seen you. Good bye ; 
take the boat that lies close to the bridge.” 

“ Au revoir^ Monsieur Pierrot,” answered Andrde. 

“ Will you grant me one favor before we part ? ” 

“ I will, indeed.” 

“ Will you allow me to kiss you once ? ” 

“ I should like it,” the child replied. 

He bent his tall form and kissed her with such 
strange passion that tears came to the eyes of the 
child, she knew not why. 

Then he turned and fled like a thief in the night, 
leaving her alone in the park, where the darkness was 
scarcely changed by the lights of the booths and tents 
illuminated for the fete of the evening. 

The long covered wagon was just in front of her, 
and the man stood on the step outside the canvas 
door still shouting : 

You must not go by without seeing Irma, you must 
not die until you have seen Irma — the most beautiful 
woman in the world — the woman who makes all other 
women jealous, and all the men admire her. Come 


nana's daughter. 


61 


in, come in and see the most beautiful woman in the 
world for two sous ! ” 

Andr^e again wished that she was Irma, the beauty 
of the world. 

This fete — a couple of lovers passing her in the twi- 
light — a girl and youth standing in the shadow of the 
big chestnut tree, all affected her imagination, as did 
the dancers on the lighted platforms, and the young 
men mounted on the wooden horses who were singing 
“ La Fille Angot ” at the top of their voices. 

Andr^e nevertheless resolutely left the Park. Her 
parents, she felt must be already aware of her absence, 
for by this time Madame Lafran9ois must have in- 
formed tliem of her absence. She felt that she must 
now make her way home as fast as possible. 

As she passed the THe Noire she heard men’s voices 
coming through the windows of a private room. She 
recognized that of the Marquis d’Albigny, who spoke 
very loudly : 

“Gentlemen, I drink to the health of Nana — I drink 
to the Queen of the day ! ” 

The boat lay at the Quai^ coming from Sufesnes and 
stopped to take in passengers. 

Andr^e hurried on board and was soon on her way 
to Paris, the lights of which she presently began to see. 
3 


62 


N ana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER III. 

REST AT LAST. 

M adame Lafran90is could not sleep, and in the 
middle of the night was seized by a nervous 
trembling from which she could obtain no relief. She 
noticed also that the forefinger of her left hand was 
completely numb. 

She nevertheless rose at her customary hour in the 
morning, and entered her school-room as usual. She 
was standing in front of a map of Europe making some 
explanations, when Andrei rushed in like a wild crea- 
ture, and ran toward her teacher to embrace her and 
beg her pardon. 

When she saw the child, Madame Lafran^ois stopped 
short, vainly seeking words in which to continue her 
explanations : 

“ Go to your — ” she stammered, she could not 
remember the word she wanted to use. Her lips 
moved, but no intelligible sound passed them. At the 
same time her uplifted arm fell at her side. She sum- 
moned all her remaining strength and said distinctly: 

Andree ! Andr^e ! Thank God that you are here !” 
Then she fell senseless, an inert mass, at the feet of 
the children seated on the front bench. They all ran 
away from the room in their terror, and Andrde was 
left there alone. She endeavored to raise the dying 
woman, but as this was impossible, she crouched on the 
floor and raised the lady's head on her knees. 

The child’s heart was nearly broken. She instantly 
knew that she was the cau-^e of this sudden illness, this 
great calamity to her beloved teacher, and felt that she 
had killed her. Once more she endeavored to raise 
her, but as before, all her efforts were useless. A faint 
smile passed over the lips of the . teacher as she 
murmured : 


nana\s daughter. 


53 


“It is all over — let me die in peace — ” 

Suddenly her head fell back and one of her hands 
can^ht at the child’s dress. 

The child was sick with terror, but she felt that she 
was responsible for this death, and must wait until 
some one came to her assistance, and could not desert 
her post. She sat thus for an hour, the body, it seemed 
to her, growing gradually heavier : she moreover felt 
the chill through her skirts. 

She asked herself how long she must stay there, 
would her companions never return? Would they 
send no one ? 

She began to be afraid ; her teeth chattered. She 
could bear this no longer. 

Through the open window came the merry twitter 
of the sparrows, fluttering from branch to branch of 
the old poplar tree. Among these birds were pro- 
bably those which Madame had liberated only the day 
before. The sun boldly streamed into the empty 
class-room, and in the centre of the yellow rectangle 
on the wall opposite the window, was the shadow of 
the poplar pierced with holes like a black robe, and 
shivering like a cold and wretched beggar. 

Finally, Madame Naviel came to deliver Andrde 
She brought with her a physician. 

“ Mother,” faltered Andr^e, who was trembling from 
head to foot, and whose voice shook, “ I tried to lift 
her, but I could not, and I stayed here with her.” 

“She has been dead an hour,” said the physician, 
“ and this child of course could not lift the body ; it is 
unfortunate, however, that this young girl should have 
been subjected to a scene of this nature, suffered to 
undergo such a terrible shock. See, her lips are purple. 
How old are you. Mademoiselle ? ” 

He was very grave as he asked this question. 

“She is almost eleven, sir,” answered the mother. 

“ She is large of her age, take my advice and keep 
her very quiet. Avoid all excitement. I will leave 
you now, medical science can do nothing here. Lay 
the body on her bed and do what is necessary. You 


54 


nana’s daughter. 


are a member of the family, I believe. I bid you good 
morning, Madame.” 

At this moment the old servant returning from 
Market entered the room. 

“ Good Heavens ! ” she cried. “ Can it be possible ! 
Poor Madame. Alas ! what shall we do ? ” 

“Will you help me carry her to her room?” asked 
Madame Naviel. 

“Yes, Madame, I will, although I do not like to 
touch the dead. I Rave always heard that it was 
unhealth}^ but never mind, I will help you.” 

The two women took up the body and carried 
it to the sleeping room lately occupied by Madame 
Lafrancois. 

“I fancy she had a turn yesterday at St. Cloud,” said 
the servant, “for when she came home she was no 
longer the same woman.” 

“ Yes, Andr^e gave us great anxiety,” answered 
Madame Naviel. 

“ And you, Madame, are younger and stronger than 
my poor mistress ; you see this poor lady has lived all 
her life shut up in her school-room, and she was all 
used up. It is a hard life that, though people do not 
think so. Then too, it tires the lungs to talk all day.” 

“' Poor Madame Lafran9ois ! Any one would think 
her asleep as she lies there on her bed all dressed. It 
gave her a shock, to think that she had lost the little 
girl. She adored children, you see. But after all it 
does not matter 1 suppose, she had to die sometime, 
and it was just as well to go this way as any other.” 

The Nuns who were to watch over the dead now 
slowly mounted the stairs, preceded by the clash of 
their rosaries which sounded like that made by dry 
bones. 

There were two of these Sisters, two women of the 
people, who had entered Religion through ignorance 
and simplicity of heart. They were kindly creatures, 
ready to perform every service for the family of the 
dead, as well as for the dead, and familiarized by habit 
to the melancholy tasks assigned .to them. 


nana's daughter. 


55 


They lighted two candles and placed them on the 
table by the side of the bed, then they knelt down and 
made the sign of the cross while their lips moved in 
a low, devout prayer. 

Then they rose and undressed the body, after having 
closed the eyes. 

“ Go home, Andr^e,” said her mother, “ I must stop 
at the Mairie.” 

“ You need not do that, Madame Naviel, I will go 
myself,” said the servant, who, on seeing the Nuns, had 
suddenly become very helpful. “ I wish though, that 
you would give notice at the church, and see the Cur^, 
then too the man must come to take the measure of the 
coffin. Death comes to us all, old and young, rich and 
poor, we all end by being put into a coffin and sent 
away in a hearse.” 

The good woman began to feel quite lively and gay 
by this time. 

Madame Naviel gave a new sheet to the Nuns, as the 
keys still hung in the wardrobe where Madame Lafran- 
^ois kept her linen. 

Andree went home as her mother had bidden her. 
Several of the mothers of the pupils now entered the 
room. They had left their little girls below in the 
court-yard, from whence came an occasional laugh. 

“I think the next thing that should be done is to 
notify the family,” said Madame Naviel. 

“ Oh ! no, there is no need of that,” objected the old 
servant. “My mistress had only one sister, she is 
insane and at Bicetre.” 

“ Then we will do ihe best we can. At all events, I 
will stop at the church.” 

The little girls in the court-yard were one by one 
taken away by their parents, and profound silence 
reigned throughout the building. 

The dead woman lay on her bed, with a Nun on 
either side, who, worn out by their mortuary duties, 
were half asleep, and murmured Latin words without 
half understanding them. Three hours later, a man 
came with a foot rule in his hand to measure the body. 


66 


nana's daughter. 


He wrote down his figures in a memorandum book 
of green leather, talking all the time as he did so. 

“ The principal thing,” said one Sisterj is to die 
well.” 

“ The principal thing in my opinion,” he answered, 
“is to live well, so well that your friends are glad to 
give you an oak coffin when you die, rather than a 
pine one. Good night. Sister.” And the man departed. 

But on the sill of the door he turned — 

“ I suppose,” he said, “ they pay you handsomely, for 
it is not pleasant work to remain in this bad air all 
night.” 

“ It is not for money that we come,” replied the 
Sister, “ they give us what they choose.” 

“ Is that so ? Well ! then nobody can find any fault, 
I suppose. Good night. Sister.” 

And he ran down the stairs whistling gaily as he 
went. 

Madame Naviel came back about four o’clock. All 
had been arranged, but not without trouble. When 
the Cur4 was informed that the funeral was that of a 
Directress of the Ecole Profession nelle, and that an 
interment of the sixth class was all that was desired, he 
was vexed, and said those persons who died with- 
out confession were not entitled to the prayers of the 
Church. The funeral was fixed for the next afternoon, 
which would give time for invitations to be sent out. 
Besides, in cases of sudden death, too great haste was 
not advisable. 

The servant came back from the Mairie where she 
had been kept waiting for three hours, and was con- 
sequently in very bad humor. 

“I never knew anything like it,” she grumbled, 
“ when I got there, there was only the one clerk in the 
bureau, the others were at the caf4, and at least a 
dozen persons were waiting! And you need not 
expect me to make the declarations at the Mairie, for 
my head is all in confusion. The fact is, one can’t be 
born, nor be married, nor die, without these wretched 
papers. One can’t even go to another and a better 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


67 


world without them, it seems.” Then Madame Naviel 
returned to her home to see to her husband’s dinner, 
for it was time for him to return from the foundry. 

The day was drawing to an end. A mist rising from 
the Seine came floating in at the open window. The 
atmosphere was heavy, and in the twilight the form of 
the dead body covered with a sheet, lay white and still. 
By degrees the chattering of the birds in the poplar 
tree died away as had the voices of the children, and 
all was still except the distant roar of the City, like 
the murmur of the sea, and the rattle of an occasional 
carriage nearer by. Occasionally a bugle call at the 
barracks of Komilly, rang out in the silence. 

About eleven o’clock, the old servant entered the 
room. The two Nuns were kneeling and as erect as 
usual, but their lips had ceased to move ; they were, 
in fact, asleep and unconscious of all that was going on 
about them. 

The woman went up to the bed to look at her dear 
mistress. The candles had burned nearly down, and 
an oblique light struck the pale face. A light breeze 
from the window caused the flame to waver — the 
shadow of the dead woman’s profile lay on the wall. 

“Good Heavens!” cried the servant, seized with 
sudden terror, “ look, look ! ” 

“ What is it ? ” asked the Sisters, awakening with a 
start. 

“ Madame certainly moved ! ” gasped the woman. 


58 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE WREATH OF ORANGE BLOSSOMS. 

I T was only the flickering flame of the candles which 
had occasioned this illusion. The old servant 
realized this, and stooped to press a kiss upon the brow 
of the dead. 

This kiss chilled her lips, and as a precaution she 
heated a needle in the candle, and crossed her lips with 
it. She then went to the arm chair of her late mis- 
tress, and established herself there comfortably, 
sleeping until dawn. 

The interment took place the next day at P^re La 
Chaise. The families of the pupils were each repre- 
sented by two or three persons. 

The father and mother of Andrde were both there, 
while the child herself was one of the four who walked 
at the side of the bier, holding the cords. 

Andrde sobbed bitterly. 

The old servant wept softly, but was comforted 
by feeling that she was the gainer by this death. 
Madame had left her in her will all her furniture and 
ten thousand francs. The rest of Madame’s savings 
she had devoted to the benefit of her insane sister at 
Bicetre. 

When the coffin had been placed in the grave, each 
person present came to throw in a handful of conse- 
crated earth. After this was done the crowd dispersed, 
talking among themselves. 

They hurried away, for they had little time to give to 
the dead. Life recalled them to its duties, its plea- 
sures, and its responsibilities. There were two or three 
women, however, who on that occasion remembered 
their friends and affections buried in this Cemetery, 
andmow turned to look for these long forgotten tombs. 
Winter rains and summer heats had already effaced 


nana’s daughter. 


59 


the names on the crosses, as Time had effaced the 
sorrows of those early days of mourning, in the hearts 
of survivors. One cannot be always thinking of the 
dead. The soul cannot always be clothed in black, life 
is not made for perpetual grief. 

On Andr^e, however, the sudden death of her 
beloved teacher made a profound impression. She 
could never make up her mind to return to that school 
room, and always felt a certain remorse, as if she had 
committed a crime, and as if she owed to the dear 
memory of her friend every reparation. She imposed 
a penance upon herself — that of constant work. 

She begged her mother to allow her to go with her 
to Monsieur Paillardin’s flower shop, and as she at once 
evinced considerable skill, she soon earned a good 
salary. But this incessant occupation of her time, to 
the exclusion of all the pleasures befitting her age, 
affected her health, and threw her into a vein of 
mysticism which made her mother very anxious. 

She became pious, haunted the different churches, 
and, on Sundays and at vespers, felt the most ecstatic 
joy in listening to the great organ and to the chanting 
of the psalms, and to the clear ringing voices of the 
sopranos rising high above the full rich bass. She 
breathed with passionate delight the perfume of the 
incense, as it rose in clouds to tlie arched ceilings, and 
enveloped in faint blue spirals the large crucifix on the 
centre altar. / 

She thought of death without terror, and felt sure 
that all would not end in a hole in the ground. She 
liked to exaggerate the importance of the human “ I ” 
and to figure to herself a world of light, of harmony, and 
of love, where, in the serenity of a joy without end, she 
would join those whom she had loved on this earth. 

There she would meet her dear Madame Lafram^ois 
who had forgiven her, and also that poor Face~(i~ Claques 
— who would be abused no more by that brutal 
Hercules ! 

About this time, she began to feel an ever increasing 
disgust foiUife, an immense weariness, and a wish to fly 


60 


NANA'S DAUGHTER. 


away and be at rest. She sat for hours in the atelier 
without uttering a word to her companions, who were 
all older than herself. She lived a life apart from the 
others in an imaginary world, absorbed in a vague 
spiritualism, and in religious meditation, at which the 
others laughed. 

Thus it came to pass that Andrde had not one single 
friend in the work-room, and as she disdained to make 
any confidences, she received none. The proprietor, 
Monsieur Paillardin, himself, however, held her in high 
esteem. Her work was more delicate, her taste and 
dexterity of a higher order than the other work-women. 
She had an innate perception of the beauties of Art 
and of Nature. 

In two years, she was at the head of the corps. She 
was then nearly thirteen. She had grown very much, 
but was still ve‘ry thin and delicate looking. In her 
beautiful almond shaped eyes, whose silky lashes shaded 
their blue depths, there were swift flashes which seemed 
to indicate a smouldering fire. Her hair was of a rich 
gold with a russet tinge, and had grown to an extraor- 
dinary length without losing anything of its lustre or 
silkiness. It fell to her knees, and an artist would 
have delighted in the tawny splendor of its waves. 

She was very proud of this feminine beauty. She 
had no other gold than this, and when she died she 
wished her hair to be cut off for her mother. 

Notwithstanding her dreary thoughts, she gradually 
developed into a richness of form, a maturity of beauty 
that was very striking. 

At fourteen. Mademoiselle Naviel abandoned the 
churches. All her mystical fancies fled like yellow 
leaves under the first wind of autumn. She suddenly 
became coquettish, gay, and laughing, and frankly 
solicitous of admiration, although at the same time 
perfectly dignified and well behaved. 

She had already many admirers, respectable clerks, 
and business men who came to the house of Paillardin 
and Co., which was one of the most important flower 
manufactories in the Faubourg iSaint Martin: 


N ana’s daughter. 


61 


Her success awakened the jealousy of her compan- 
ions, who were furious at seeing themselves less 
admired than “ Mademoiselle Andrde,” for at this 
period she ceased to be called Andrde alone, and even 
the proprietor addressed her as Mademoiselle. 

Monsieur Paillardiii was a confirmed old bachelor, 
and at fifty looked only thirty. A few white hairs 
glittered among his whiskers, his hair was brushed for- 
ward in tufts over each ear and was quite gray. His 
teeth spoiled by the abuse of tobacco, were yellow and 
stained. 

His hands were short and thick, but their shape 
indicated strength. He gnawed his nails and wore 
several rings. 

His feet were huge, and his stomach protuberant. 
He sat with his knees a good way apart, in order that 
he might spread out his hands better, and show his 
rings to greater advantage. 

His face was veined with purple, his nose was short 
and broad. His under lip was full and indicated that 
he was fond of the pleasures of the table. He was 
generous toward women and capable of giving much 
where they gave all. He rejoiced in the reputation of 
liberality and of wealth, which was apparent in the 
heaviness of his watch-chain and in the jewels he wore. 

The first time he noticed with especial attention 
Andr^e’s beauty was on a certain Friday. A beautiful 
wreath of orange blossoms had just beeli finished, and 
was to be worn by a bride that evening. The flowers 
were the most natural that had ever been seen. Mon- 
sieur Faillardin had entrusted it to Andr^e to mount, 
having the most absolute confidence in her taste and 
in her ability to dispose the flowers among the thick 
glossy leaves in the most judicious manner. 

All the other work-women were very jealous at the 
preference given to Andr4e, and as they sat around the 
table uttered several somewhat equivocal jokes which 
were unnoticed by Mademoiselle Naviel and her 
mother. 

Tiiere was one brunette with quick dark eyes and 


62 


K ana’s d augiitp: u. 


full lips, whose relations with the proprietor were more 
than suspected, and who was regarded by her compa- 
nions with much interest. She was named Margot, and 
her chirping voice, and abrupt movements all seemed 
to justify the name, for she had a little of the magpie 
in her nature, and was never *so happy as when in 
mischief. 

“ Do you not think, young ladies,” she said, abruptly, 
“ that the selection made by the Proprietor, of the per- 
son who was to mount the wreath has been a most 
happy one ? ” 

This question was startling, for her companions 
all knew that she was quite capable of denouncing 
to Monsieur Paillardin whomsoever among them 
should venture to criticise his acts. Consequently, no 
one spoke. 

Madame Naviel was the only one who did not under- 
stand, and she therefore said, quietly: 

“ What do you mean, Margot?” 

“ My meaning is very simple,” answered the magpie, 
“ for there is only one person here, who can aspire to 
orange blossoms. Is not that so, ladies ? ” 

But this remark was not an agreeable one, and several 
of the girls replied, indignantly: 

“For what do you take us, Margot?” asked the 
boldest. 

“ You surely are not such hypocrites as to pretend 
such stuff to me ! ” answered Margot. “ I am willing 
to wager most anything, that with the exception of 
Andr4e there is not one among us who — ” 

“Oh! Margot,” interrupted xMadame Naviel, “you 
ought not to say such things. You ought not to*^say 
boldly that you — ” 

“I have said nothing about myself. I merely 
remarked, that there was among us only one strictly 
good person, but did not say that this person was 
not myself.” 

“ Then, you believe that xYndr^e — ” 

“Pshaw! Andr4e is only a child yet. Wait until 
her wings grow, and then you will see how well she 


nana's daughter. 


63 


will use them. At present, however, I am willing to 
say that I believe in her, and, therefore, I should like 
to see her try on the wreath.” 

Madame Naviel, somewhat wounded, rose, and said : 

“ I have no objection. Put on the wreath, Andrde, 
but first let down your hair.” 

Andrde, with one quick movement of her hand, 
loosened her magnificent tresses, then lightly placed the 
white wreath on her golden hair. 

It was a glorious day in June; the sun gleamed 
into the workroom through three large uncurtained 
windows ; Andr^e stood in all this blaze of sunshine, 
and, raising both arms, tried to gather up her wealth 
of hair. 

At this moment. Monsieur Paillardin entered. He 
stood transfixed with admiration. 

“How old is your daughter?” he asked of Madame 
Naviel. 

“ Fourteen, sir,” answered the mother. 

“Ah! she looks older. You must look out for her 
among all these women ! I assure you, she is safer 
with a man like myself, than with Margot, for example. 
I congratulate you, Mademoiselle Andrde. The wreath 
is a great success, and you deserve a reward : if your 
mother will consent, I will take you to the theatre 
to-night, and before the theatre I invite you to dinner. 
It is now four o’clock. You have only time to go home 
and make your toilette, and return Jiere by six. I 
have a loge for the Boutfes. After the play, I will 
take you home in my carriage.” 

Madame Naviel, indirectly addressed by her em- 
ployer, hesitated slightly. Monsieur Paillardin saw 
this, and said, good naturedly : 

“ Come now, my good woman, have you no confi- 
dence in me ? ” 

Margot was in a rage. 

Madame Naviel, only half reassured, dared not 
refuse, lest she should offend Monsieur Paillardin. 

Andr^e, in great delight, hurried off to don her 
Sunday clothes. 


64 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER V. 

ANDREE DINES WITH HER EMPLOYER. 

A NDREE NAVIEL returned at six to the estab- 
lishment of Paillardin and Co. 

The valet received her with great politeness, and 
showed her into the salon. 

“ Monsieur begs that Mademoiselle will wait a few 
minutes.” 

Andr^e seated herself in a low lounging chair 
covered with green velvet, and trimmed with bands of 
poppy-colored satin embroidered with yellow and black 
pansies. All the furniture was like this, even the 
divan in the centre of the salon. In the corners stood 
artificial Calladiums, grouped with wonderful fidelity 
to Nature. 

On each side of the green marble mantel, hung gilt 
baskets containing beautiful leaves and falling branches. 

Andrde noticed also the two candelabra, with their 
lights surmounted by a Cupid who, with bandaged 
eyes, was fitting a golden arrow to his bow. Other 
Cupids were painted on the ceiling. The portieres and 
the curtains were of green velvet, like the furniture, 
and lined with plum-colored satin. Four mirrors, 
Louis Quinze in style, reflected every side of the 
room. 

Copies of Boucher, Watteau and Lancret were on 
the panels, and while Andr^e was admiring them 
Monsieur Paillardin came in. 

“Are you hungry, my child?” he said, affecting a 
fatherly tone. 

“ I must confess, sir,” answered Andr^e, “ that when 
I am going to the theatre, I am so happy that I never 
care to eat.” 

“ You never ought to feel that way ; on the contrary, 
the happier you are, the more you need food. And 


nana’s daughter. 


65 


now, my dear, take my arm, and allow me to conduct 
3^011 to the dining-room.” 

Without any affected humility, but with perfect ease 
of manner, Andrde took the arm which her employer 
offered. 

She was very charming in her well made costume of 
lilac faille, with her high buttoned gloves of the same 
tint, and a coquettish straw hat trimmed with lilies of 
the valley. 

The silver soup tureen, from which rose a cloud of 
steam, stood on a table, glittering with glass and silver. 

The valet served the soup. 

“ Have you been at the Bouffes ? ” asked the host. 

“Never, sir.” 

“Then you have never seen Judic in la Timhalle? ” 

“No, sir, not yet.” 

“ She is simply ravishing.” 

“ So I am told.” 

“ She does not say much, it is simply her manner of 
sajdng it.” 

Truite au heurre d'lsegny?'^ asked the lackeys in 
his black coat and white cravat. 

“Take some. Mademoiselle, you will find it excel- 
lent, I fancy. Yon see I am a great eater. An old 
bachelor like myself, who has no little wife to pet, must 
be forgiven if he thinks too much of the pleasures of 
the table.” 

“ Saint-Emilion ? ” asked the servant. 

“If, however. Mademoiselle Anclr^e would do me 
the honor to take a seat very often at my table, and to 
go with me to the theatre, I should be less alone, and 
my life would become very different.” 

“But what is to prevent your marrying?” asked 
Andree quickly. 

“Would you have me marry, at my age? Would 
you have me marry an old woman ? Thank you, no — 
I do not like them ; and as to young girls, where should 
I find one who would accept an old fellow like myself? 
Now would you. Mademoiselle Andrde, take me for a 
husband ? ” 


66 


nana’s daughter. 


“ Yes, if I loved you.” 

“That is a most Jesuitical reply — ‘If I loved you,’ 
you said? Yes, of course, but that is the precise ques- 
tion. Do you think you could love me well enough to 
marry me ? ” 

“I do not know you well enough to answer that 
question.” 

“ Escalope de veau aux tomates farcies^'' said the ser- 
vant. 

“Tell Jean to be punctual,” said his master, “for 
the other night he made me lose the first act of la 
Timballe. As Mademoiselle Naviel does me the honor 
to accompany me to-night, I am anxious that she should 
hear the whole of the play.” 

The servant went out with his master’s orders. • 

“Come now, Andree, tell me frankly,” resumed 
Monsieur Paillardin, “ if you were rich would the age 
of a suitor be an invincible objection with you ? ” 

“ I should always prefer a suitor who was not more 
than thirty,” answered the girl seriously, “but there 
are many old men whom I prefer to young ones; but 
I cannot tell yet whether I am likely to love or not.” 

“ Yes, Andree, you will love. I see a wavering flame 
in your pretty eyes that tells the story. You may be 
certain that an old fox like myself is not likely to be 
deceived.” 

“Well, then. Monsieur Paillardin, let me tell you 
that I am determined not to love a man unless I am 
sure of being his first love.” 

“ You make a great mistake then,” answered Mon- 
sieur Paillardin. “Let me advise you to follow the 
paternal advice which I now give you — I might be 
your father, my dear ; I am old enough, and, besides, 
the relative positions give me the right to remonstrate 
a little. You are very pretty, and when you are a 
little older you will be adorable and adored, but you 
must distrust your youthful admirers. Some of them 
will offer marriage without in the least knowing if they 
can provide you with a daily loaf of bread. And then 
what next? They will fly away like birds from the 


naxa’s daughter. 


67 


matrimonial cage when the doors are open, and you 
will be left alone. I beg your pardon ; pray take a bit 
of that du<;k, you will find it excellent. Jules, serve 
the champagne.’^ 

Jules filled Andr(^e’s glass and that of his master. 

“ I drink to your happiness,” said Monsieur Paillar- 
diii, as he raised his glass. 

‘‘And I to yours, sir,” answered Andrde. 

“ Morilles d la creme f ” said the lackey. 

“Thanks, nothing more. I am not accustomed — ” 

“ Deuce take the theatre I ” cried Paillardin, “ if it 
is that which has taken away your appetite. What 
have we still, Jules?” 

“ Sorbet^ au moka^ sir.” 

“ Serve it quickl}", then.” 

The dinner concluded somewhat abruptly, for it was 
time to depart. 

Andree was in an ecstacy of enjoyment, for this was 
the first time she had ever been in a private carriage or 
had occupied a loge at the theatre. And this exquisite 
dinner, the elegance of the table, the silver and the 
crystal, the antique lamp of copper, suspended by 
chains from the ceiling of varnished oak, the majestic 
lackey, all this opulence and comfort struck the secret 
chords in her heart. 

She felt that the aspect of this wealthy home had 
aroused new ambitions and aspirations within herself, 
and she knew that when the curtain fell after the play 
it would be also on all this luxury in which she had 
felt so entirely at home. 

The carriage was announced. Monsieur put on a 
pair of new gloves, which he had carefully selected to 
match Andree’s. 

While the coup(^ bore them to the Bouffes, he called 
Andree's attention to this fact, adding ; “ 1 wore tiieiii 
in order that people might think you were my little 
wife — ” 

In a matter of course way he put his arm around her 
waist and, drawing her toward him, kissed her on 
her brow. 


68 


NANA'S DAUGHTER. 


Andr^e was very innocent and very ignorant, and 
did not realize her danger. She drew back, however. 
In reality she was glad to have pleased a man so rich 
as he, one who had a carriage and liveried servants. 
Blit she knew from Madame Naviel that a woman who 
wishes to be respected must put an end to any such 
impertinences. Without any affectation of terror, she 
simpl}' drew back into her corner, and laughed a little. 

“You know very well,” she said, “that I cannot be 
your wife. I am too young and too poor for you.” 

“ I see, Andree, my gray hair strikes terror to your 
soul, in spite of your words. Cannot you understand, 
child, that a man of my age loves better than a younger 
man? Do you not know that the young love them- 
selves more than any one else ? If you were to share 
my life, not now, but later — in two or three years, say 
— I would insure a tranquil existence to your parents 
and to you the life of a Queen : all Paris should talk 
of your carriages and your toilettes. You should 
always be seen at the best theatres in the best loge. 
We would travel like two lovers, and 1 would love you 
as no one else ever will in this world ! ” 

“ You are describing an impossible dream, Monsieur,” 
said Andree. 

The coupe suddenly stopped and the groom opened 
the door. 

Paillardin was the first to emerge, and offered his 
hand to the young girl. 

At this same moment, a landau with blue liveries 
drove up. 

A woman who was a perfect blonde, and all glitter- 
ing with gold and precious stones, stepped from the 
carriage on the asphalt pavement, where she took the 
arm of a man who was well dressed and decorated. 

She saw Andree in the vestibule in the full blaze of 
the gas, and exclaimed aloud : 

“ Look at that girl, d’Albigny. Don’t you think 
she is as much like me as if she were my daughter ? ” 

“Upon my word, she is,” answered d’Albigny, “but 
at this rate you might be a grandmother.” 


nana's daughter. 


CD 


CHAPTER VI. 

JUDIC PLAYS. 

A NDREE suddenly looked up. Where had she seen 
that blonde? 

Paillardin leaned toward her, and whispered in her ear : 
“That is Nana.” 

“ Ah ! I remember,” said the girl, with a shiver. 
Paillardin had taken a loge that held four. The 
orchestra was playing, and Nana occupied a proscenium 
box with the Marquis. 

When she entered, a buzz of admiration filled the 
house. Her reign had lasted fifteen years. And Time 
had not yet marred this chef d'oeuvre of the Devil. 
Brilliant, insolent and fatal, she seemed to daily grow in 
harm. She had ruined the old King, but received him 
occasionally, as she found his piteous air of fallen 
majesty very amusing. She made him her buffoon. 

As to d’Albigny, she liked him after her own fash- 
ion. Having ruined him, she now supported him. 
Nana gave entertainments, at which the men played 
high, but the hostess and the Marquis invariably won. 
He had formerly been successful at the Bourse, and he 
now speculated with Nana’s money. Their hotel be- 
came fabulously luxurious. 

Messieurs, Generals and Ambassadors, all paid tribute 
to her, and were to be seen at her fetes. She had ac- 
quired three languages, and learned music. She sang 
like Krauss, and was in a position to sell the secrets of 
France to any otlier nation. 

At this time French society was tainted with an 
hereditary virus. Everything was venal, men, women, 
and consciences. Nana gave the tone to all. 

Other women imitated her toilettes, without being • 
able to attain the height of her luxury. China, India 
and Japan laid their treasures at her feet. 


70 


nana’s daughter. 


One day a certain Rajah left in her salon a heap of 
sparkling diamonds. She sent them back to him. 

He returned and offered her all his jewels, that is to 
say his entire fortune, his aigrette of rubies, his golden 
bracelets set thick with emeralds, his rings, and a box 
of Indian wood filled with unset black pearls. He 
offered her everything he had in the world, even his 
sabre, with its handle encrusted with sapphires. 

She laughed and accepted, and a week later closed 
her door in his face, sent the gold of the bracelets to 
be melted up, and the diamonds to be set at Fontanels. 

At the Bouffes, on the night of which we write, the 
whole house had eyes only for her, watching her every 
gesture, and were ready to applaud her as if she had 
been a very Queen. She acknowledged with a haughty 
smile the salutations of the young men in the orches- 
tra stalls, remembering them only' because they had 
lost everything, reputation and money, under her roof. 

Respectable women tried to imitate this smile, prac- 
tising it by stealth before the mirror at the back of 
their boxes. 

Andree remembered her only too well. She had 
seen her that day at Saint-Cloud, the day of her esca- 
pade which had ended so disastrously^ for Madame 
Lafram^ois. She recognized the Marquis also, the ama- 
teur wrestler who had won nine hundred and ninety^- 
five Louis in the wager exposed by Face-d-Olaques, 
She thought with singular tenderness of that poor 
Face-d- Claques^ of his piteous face and lamentable 
thinness. She had hoped to see him again — hoped that 
some morning when she went out, she should meet him, 
that he would pass under her window as he had prom- 
ised. Perhaps he was dead. Her heart sank at this 
thought. 

Monsieur Paillardin in his admiration for Nana, 
momentarily forgot Andree, whose simple, girlish 
beauty had attracted no attention. She did not resent 
this neglect or even notice it, so deeply was she ab- 
sorbed in the recollections awakened by Nana’s sudden 
appearance. 


nana’s daughter. 


71 


Presently the curtain rose. 

All Paris had come to see Judic and to hear Pischard 
in la Timhalle, The play contained a serenade which 
Pischard sang divinely. 

As to Judic, she recited her couplets with the air of 
a little boarding school girl, who knew more than she 
seemed to wish to have supposed. Her very reticence 
was so suggestive that the public adored her, for they 
were weary of the open vulgarity of the stage under the 
Empire. The refinement of our Parisian civilization 
does not permit too evident coarseness of words. An- 
dr^e was greatly interested in the play, and yet she 
could not forget Nana, who was determined to give 
Judic a positive ovation that night. She loudly ap- 
plauded, using the Italian '-^hrava! Jravmma.' Judic ! ” 

Nana conducted herself like a beneficent princess, 
sure of her own strength. During the entr' acte her 
loge was filled with men of the world, quiet and grave, 
who almost without exception left the loge of some 
woman of fashion to enter hers. 

The appearance of Stog, Postmaster General, and of 
the Prince Mulhausen, two new adorers of Nana, cre- 
ated quite a sensation. They were a little reserved in 
their manner toward d’Albigny, at the same time they 
yielded to him as to the husband of the Queen. 

Nana sat looking at Andrde with fixed attention. 

“What interests you so much?” asked the Marquis. 

“ I am looking at that child down there, sitting with 
that stout man. She is the same girl we saw as we 
came in. Her resemblance to myself is really start- 
ling.” 

Nana’s little circle followed the direction of her eyes. 

“ Upon my word, you are right,” said d’Albigny, and 
every lorgnette in Nana’s box was riveted on that of 
Paillardin. Immediately this example was followed by 
the whole house. 

Andr^e, annoyed, retired to the back of the loge, in 
order to be less conspicuous. Presently there was a 
discreet tap at the door which Paillardin immediately 
opened. 


72 


nana’s daughter. 


The box-opener appeared with an enormous bouquet 
of white roses. 

“ I was told to bring these flowers to Madame,” she 
said. 

Andrde blushed. 

“ Take it, my child,” said Paillardin, “it binds you to 
nothing ; it is a mere homage to your beauty. Then, 
too, am I not here to protect you ? ” And he held his 
head more erect. 

She accepted the bouquet, and holding it to her face, 
moved a little more forward in her loge. Her golden 
hair glistened in the shower of light from the chandelier 
— her beautiful eyes were illuminated, and when she 
raised her head she was literally transfigured by the 
pleasure she felt in the silent homage brought to her 
by these half-opened roses, fitting symbol of her youth. 

Then in her loge Nana generously applauded her, 
and repeated the remark in a loud tone which she had 
made when she entered the house : 

“ It is astonishing ! She might be taken for my 
daughter !” 

These words were heard — they were repeated from 
mouth to mouth, from the orchestra stalls to the upper 
gallery. 

“Nana’s daughter!” said the rich people in the 
boxes. 

“Nana’s daughter!” repeated the echo among the 
friezes above. 

All the women leaned forward to look at the girl, 
and to institute comparisons, which they did in audible 
voices. 

Paillardin felt almost jealous of all this admiration, 
while at the same time he was highly flattered. He 
leaned over his chair and assumed an air of intense 
intimacy. The double entendres of the play amused 
him greatly. The child laughed without knowing why, 
for she did not in the least comprehend the allusions, 
which, however, made her very uncomfortable. 

By degrees she felt herself enervated by this atmos- 
phere of admiration. She began to think everything 


KANA S DAUGHTER. 


73 


was perfect, even to Monsieur Paillardin, who seemed 
to her absolutely transfigured. She no longer thought 
him ugly nor old, notwithstanding his apoplectic face. 
He had enough influence over her to induce her to 
accept the flowers, and he was now saying things to 
her that she ought not to hear. 

Suddenly there came a loud rap at the door of the 
loge. 

“ Who is there ? ” asked Paillardin impatiently. 

“I, Pierre Naviel,” said a full voice. 

“ My father ! ” exclaimed Andrde, coloring as if she 
had been doing something wrong. She hastily rose 
and opened the door. 

A workman, with an energetic face and colossal 
form, with eyes that looked straight into yours with a 
frank, honest smile, appeared in the doorway. He 
wore his Sunday coat in honor of his daughter. 

“ I have come for you, my child,” he said to Andr^e. 

At this moment the curtain rose for the third act. 
Andree wanted to stay. 

“ No,” said Pierre Naviel gently but firmly, “ this is 
no place for you — and your mother was wrong — ” 

Here Paillardin attempted to interfere. 

“Excuse me. Master,” said the man. “In your 
establishment my daughter owes you obedience, but 
elsewhere it is her father who commands.” 

Andree rose and followed Pierre Naviel, carrying 
with her the bouquet of white roses — mute witnesses 
of her ephemeral triumph. 

Her heart was filled with regret as she crossed the 
street close by the coupe that was waiting for her. 

She thought of this first success won by her beauty, 
but suddenly a thought came to her which marred her 

joy- 

What was that name she had heard? What did the 
crowd call her? Not Aiidrde Naviel — but Nana’s 
Daughter ! 


74 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER VIL 

THE SUICIDE. 

A NDREE lifted the roses from her dressing table 
and cut the ribbon that bound them, in order to 
put the flowers in water. A card fell from the centre 
of the roses. 

On this card was the name Lucien Despretz, and in 
pencil below: “A tribute to virtue and beauty.” 

Whence came this counsel enveloped in a compli- 
ment. It was to Andr^e Naviel, and not to Nana’s 
Daughter, that the unknown admirer sent this offering. 
She placed the card among her most secret treasures, 
and scattered the faded rose leaves among her laces. 

Who could this Lucien Despretz be ? She knew no 
one of the name. She had long dreamed of a lover 
who should be as young and handsome as a hero of 
romance, and at once created an imaginary Lucien 
Despretz. 

She depicted him according to her fancy, sometimes 
clothing him in uniform, when he was tall and haughty, 
wearing a fierce moustache. At other times, according 
to her own mood, his handsome head was bowed under 
the weight of active thought, his broad brow was 
shaded by luxuriant masses of hair, and the light beard 
was cut into a point. But by degrees, under the 
influence of an industrious life and the lionest simplicity 
of her home, these dreams were dissipated and almost 
forgotten. She became stronger^ and lost much of her 
frail delicacy of appearance. 

Sometimes she met on the stairway a young man 
who looked as if he might be about twenty-five, whose 
beard was light and carefully trimmed, who was always 
well dressed, whose eyes were frank and honest, and 
whose smile was kindly, though often sad. 

She had paid no especial attention to this young 


nana’s daughter. 


75 


man, only noticing that his bow was very polite, and 
that he stepped aside as soon as he saw her, to allow 
her to pass. 

She knew, however, that he lived with his mother on 
the same floor as herself. His mother, whom she also 
frequently met, was always in black, but she had never 
heard their names. 

One evening returning from her work, she noticed a 
visiting card fastened to the door of her opposite 
neighbor. The concierge had just lighted the gas. 
Aiidree naturally stopped and read the name. She 
found to her great astonishment that this was her 
unknown admirer — the admirer who had sent her the 
roses at the Bouftes. And now the hero of her dreams 
had appeared in the flesh ! 

From this day she always colored when she met 
Lucien Despretz on the stairs, but her discovery made 
no other change in her life. Never had the young 
man spoken to her. Once only he ventured on a smile 
as he bowed low before her. 

Once Andrde fancied that he turned pale as she 
passed, but as she had not returned his smile, his 
salutations were grave and more polite than ever. 

Pierre Naviel allowed his daughter all reasonable 
pleasures, and had even learned to love the theatre for 
Andree’s sake. He took her in the winter to the 
Fran^aise and to the Opdra Comique. In the summer, 
they, with Madame Naviel, wandered off frequently 
into the country, coming home at night fatigued in 
body but rested in mind, having enjoyed their long 
day and the repose of the dusky twilight. 

One Sunday at the end of October they started 
forth to spend at Bellevue a last day in the woods. 
Sunshine, after days of rain, warmed the yellow 
forests. Tiie swallows had gone, but a few birds still 
lingered singing their autumnal songs. At Bellevue 
they bougiit ham and bread, pears and wine, which they 
ate out of doors. Nothing is more delightful than a 
day like this, and a lunch among the falling leaves 
in the last days of autumn. 


76 


nana’s daughtek. 


They went to the boat early, as Madame Naviel was 
afraid of the night dew on account of Andr^e, who had 
had a little cough for several weeks. 

It was about seven o’clock when they landed at the 
Pont d’Austerlitz ; a thick fog was rising from the Seine, 
and lay over all the buildings on the shore. The square 
masonry of Notre Dame was wrapped in the mist ; only 
its towers rose above it. The gas-lamps on the Quai 
struggled ineffectually with the darkness; sergeants de 
ville stood on the bridges holding torches. About the 
middle of the bridge the Naviel family met a tall, 
slender man, who was running. Suddenly they heard 
him stop, and then they distinguished the dull thud of 
a body falling into the water. 

Pierre Naviel said to his wife : 

“Wait for me here,” and hurried toward the spot 
where the man had disappeared. And he, too, presently 
disappeared in the fog. 

Torches were borne along the bridge. A crowd 
gathered, and voices were heard. 

“It was just here,” some one shouted. 

“ Throw over the buoy at the end of the pontoon,” 
called another voice. 

“ Torches here ! Hurry ! In the name of Heaven, 
hurry ! ” 

“ Why does not some one who can swim, jump in to 
the rescue ! ” cried some one else. 

“ They are drowned by this time ! ” 

“ No ! I tell you I see something over there ! ” 

The confusion and excitement increased. 

No one else dared to jump into the water on account 
of the density of the fog, and Naviel; who had 
tried to save the drowning man, was apparently left to 
his fate. 

“ They are done for,” remarked a man, as he passed 
Andree and her mother. “ They won’t be seen by their 
friends again unless they go to look for them at the 
Morgue ! ” 

“Cowards I” exclaimed Andree, amid passionate 


nana’is daugiitek. 77 

sobs. “ Will none among you save my father? I will 
do it, if you won’t ! ” 

Madame Naviel uttered a cry and endeavored to 
detain the girl, who broke away and ran down the 
steps which led to the pontoon, full of that courage 
imparted only by love. Suddenly she heard her 
father’s voice from above. 

“ Andrde, Andr^e ! stop, my child ! I am here, and 
we are both safe.” 

The 3'oung girl fell fainting on the edge of the Quai. 
Pierre Naviel was at her side in three bounds, and 
Madame Naviel followed more slowly. He lifted 
Andree in his arms ; the girl slowly opened her eyes. 

“ My child ! ” he exclaimed, “ where were you going?” 

“ I wanted — to help — you,” faltered Andree. 

By this time, Madame Naviel was close at hand. 
The girl’s strength quickly returned. 

“I am all right now,” she said. “ I can walk, let us 
go home.” 

She took her father’s arm. 

“ Where is the poor fellow ? ” she asked. 

“ On a bench above. They are bringing him to. 
Just imagine, he did not wish to be saved ! He said to 
me, ‘ Let me alone — let me drown. I have no bread 
to eat — how can I live ? ’ It was no easy matter to 
hold him up, though, for he was so tall and so thin that 
he went down like lead. When I saw him pass us, I 
took him for our neighbor.” 

“ Please go and see how he is,” pleaded Andrde. “I 
do not need you any longer.” 

She dropped her father s arm, that he might see how 
strong she was. 

“We will all go,” answered Naviel, “for I must 
confess to feeling a great interest in the poor fellow.” 

When they reached the bench where Pierre Naviel had 
placed the suicide, thej found the unhappy man sitting 
up, pale and shivering, surrounded by a curious crowd. 

“ Gentlemen — charity for this famished man ! ” said 
Andree, in her sweet voice, and taking her father’s hat 
she penetrated the crowd. 


78 


nana’s daughter. 


When she went toward the man, he looked at her 
with wide-open eyes, seeing her very distinctly by the 
light of the gas lamp close to the bench. 

“What! is that really you? Excuse me. Made- 
moiselle,” he stammered, “but you have grown very 
much since the fete at Saint Cloud.” 

Andree looked at him with a puzzled expression. 

“ You do not remember Face-d- Claques^ then? You 
are too old now, Mademoiselle ; you would not kiss 
poor Pierrot to-day ? ” 

“It is really you, then ? ” said Andree. “Father,” 
she continued, “ this is the good man of whom I told 
you. But for him, I should probably be dancing on 
the tight rope at present.” 

Pier innate goodness of heart made itself felt in those 
words. Nevertheless, this man bore little resemblance 
to her old Pierrot, who had been so droll in his clown’s 
dress. The poor fellow looked miserable beyond 
words. His long, thin hair hung over his shoulders 
like rags ; his beard was untrimmed and of a yellowish 
gray ; his whole aspect in short was one of squalid 
poverty. • 

Pierre Naviel took a carriage and placed Pierrot in 
it, to whom Andree gave the money she had collected. 
Twenty minutes later, the Naviels reached their home, 
having with them this poor Face-d-Claques^ who was 
shivering with cold and hunger. 

Andree went to find some dry clothing for him, and 
Pierre Naviel took him to his own bed-room, where he 
made him dress. Madame Naviel, in the meantime, 
lighted a fire and laid the table. 

After he had eaten something, the ex-Pierrot related 
his piteous history. It was tiie old one of a gradual 
fall into evil, led on by extravagant tastes and unwor- 
tiiy associates. He spoke of his child, whose mother, 
he said, was a conspicuous member of a certain circle. 

“ IShe would be about your age. Mademoiselle,” he 
said to Aiidrde, “ and I am sure, would have been very 
pretty. Had she been left to me, I would have worked 
iur lier, and known, I am sure, no discouragement.” 


nana's daughter. 


79 


“ Yes, comrade, a man must work,” said Pierre 
Naviel. “Without work, he is only half a man. If you 
wish, I think I can find you a position with Monsieur 
Paillardin ; he can easily find you work of some kind. 
You are not in the least fitted for the foundry, or I 
would get you in there.” 

“ Thank you, sir. I can read and write, and in my 
time have known something of figures, and have held 
more than one honorable position. I lost everything, 
and have no one to blame but myself. I was crazy 
over this girl, for whose jewels and carriages all Paris 
paid. And finall}" I committed a theft — a theft, do 
you hear? But 1 intended to return the money, and 
should have done so, had not that wretched woman 
caused my arrest first. Was 1 not right, when I tried 
to drown myself? Yesterday I met Hercules — you 
remember him. Mademoiselle — he advanced me twent}'- 
sous and bade me go and be shaved, and then take my 
old position with him. I took his twenty sous, but I 
was not shaved, and I dare not go to him without 
having obeyed him.” 

“But what did you do with the money?” asked 
Naviel. 

“ I drank it, sir, in order to gain courage to drown 
myself. Now I will leave you.” 

The Naviels did not attempt to detain him. Andr^e 
went out with him into the corridor ; but hardly had 
he crossed the threshold, than he stood with dilated 
eyes fixed on the visiting card nailed upon the opposite 
door. Then without a word, he dashed down the 
street and fled as if pursued by a spectre. 


80 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A DAY IN THE COUNTRY. 

HEN the winter was over and the buds swelled 



vv on the trees, then the ga3^eties commenced for 
“the rosier'es^'’ as the girls who made the flowers 
at Paillardin & Co.’s were called. They were in the 
habit of meeting on the first Sunday of spring, some- 
where in the countr}^, and this year they invited 
Andrde, who, with her mother’s permission, accepted 
with pleasure. She had not had a very -gay winter, 
and this April fete was hailed by her with joy. 

In the first place there had been an inundation of 
the Seine, and the water had reached the foundry 
where Pierre Naviel worked, and extinguished the 
furnaces. For a month, therefore, Naviel was out of 
work, and was compelled to suppress the weekly 
theatre and even to retrench in things that were more 
necessary. 

He was a member of a Mutual Benefit Society, which 
secured the members a certain amount, in case of 
illness or lack of work. He had long been anxious to 
save mone}^ enough to enable his wife and daughter, in 
case of his death, to open a small establishment for the 
manufacture and sale of artificial flowers. But being 
a prudent man, he did not wish them to leave Paillar- 
din & Co., before he had been able to put aside enough 
mone}^ to leave them as the base of operations. ^ 

The foundation of this small capital of which he 
dreamed, and which was no vague dream to a man like 
himself — determined and industrious — was already 
deposited in the savings bank, a thousand francs in 
his wife’s name and a thousand in the name of his 
daughter. 

During the winter, he had resolved to submit to any 
privations rather than disturb this nest egg. His 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


81 


family encouraged this resolution. When spring came 
and Andr^e had the opportunity of enjoying a day of 
happy gayety in the open air, her parents had no desire 
to throw any obstacles in her way. When she was 
quite ready, Pierre Naviel went to the door with her, 
and said when he left her, kissing her on the brow : 

“ Enjoy yourself, Andr^e ; but promise me, if Mon- 
sieur Paillardin is of the party, that you will make 
some excuse and come home.” 

“ I promise you, dear father.” 

“I rely on your word, because, let me tell you, I 
distrust this man. I have good reasons for doing so, 
and your mother has told me enough to show me the 
kind of man he is.” 

At the foot of the stairs, Andrde saw her neighbor, 
who seemed to be waiting for her. For the last two 
months, they had spoken when they met on the stairs. 
Monsieur Lucien Despretz asked with interest after 
the health of Mademoiselle Andrde, and she inquired 
for his mother, and when Madame Despretz went on 
Sunday to market, she often stopped to chat with 
Madame Naviel. The two ladies soon became quite 
confidential, though they had not yet begun to visit 
each other ; their intercourse was confined to the stair- 
case and corridors. 

But on the day of this April fete, Andrde fancied 
that the young man lingered to speak to her with an air 
of premeditation. 

“ Are you going to walk. Mademoiselle ? ” he asked, 
after courteously inquiring for her health. 

“ Yes, sir; I am going to the country. And you?” 

“ Qh ! I ? I am going nowhere in particular ; but if 
you would kindly allow me to walk a little way by 
370ur side, I should be glad to speak to you of a matter 
of importance.” 

“ I shall be very glad if you will go with me to the 
Station, where 1 have appointed to meet some of my 
friends from our work room, at ten o’clock.” 

“ How far are you going into the country ? ” 

“To a spot about half way between Rueil and 


82 


nana's daughter. 


Malmaisou. Margot, who is one of us, is to take us to 
dine at an uncle of hers, who, it seems, has a little 
country house and garden, the kej^s of which he 
entrusts to her when he is away and gives her, at the 
same time, full permission to gather the fruit. But we 
are all carrying something. I want to buy a 'pite-de- 
foie-gras^ on my way to the station. The others carry 
what they choose, while Margot gives the dessert and 
even the wine.” 

“ I am charmed with your frank manner of giving 
me these little particulars. Mademoiselle Andrde. 
Take my arm, unless you think me too tall for you.” 

“Not in the least!” she replied, laughing gaily, as 
she accepted the arm he offered. “ I like tali men.” 

They crossed the Place de la Bastille in silence, and 
then entered the Boulevard. The town looked as if 
it were Sunday. The sun was shining brightly, but 
the doors of the shops were still closed. The windows, 
however, were open, and women were seen flitting 
about within in their iieglig^ costumes. Occasionally 
a white arm would emerge to fasten a shutter or wafer 
some favorite flower : the loose sleeve would fall back, 
and show the dimpled contour. 

On the upper balconies sat a man or two reading the 
newspapers in dressing gown and smoking cap, while 
little groups gathered on the sidewalk in Sunday 
apparel, before they took their way toward the various 
stations. 

“ Shall I give you my opinion in regard to this uncle 
of Mademoiselle Margot’s — whom, by the way, I have 
not the honor of knowing?” asked Lucien Despretz. 

“ Go on.” 

“1 don’t believe he is her uncle any more than I am.” 

“ Who is he, then?,” 

“Her protector. Mademoiselle. A person who occu- 
pies toward her precisely the position your employer, 
Monsieur Paillardin, proposed to occupy toward you, 
the night he took you to the Boufles — 1 was there 
myself, Mademoiselle. To think of that woman 
making the audience almost believe that you were her 


nana's daughter. 


83 


daughter ! The idiots noticed you only because Nana 
had done so — and then that fool Pail lardin was so 
conceited because he felt that he had brought you out ! 
Oh ! what a recollection I have of that wretched night, 
which, perhaps, you regret. It is only natural that a 
girl as handsome as yourself should like to be admired.” 

“ I am not ugly, sir, I know, but admiration is not 
essential to my happiness. I was more pleased that 
evening of which you speak with some roses sent me 
by a certain Monsieur Lucien Despretz than with any- 
thing else, except the simple words that accompanied 
them. Those words proved to me that lu}'- unknown 
friend had divined that Andr^e Naviel could have noth- 
ing in common with the woman of whom you speak.” 

“ Then my bouquet pleased you ?” 

“ Yes, very much. 1 kept it a long time, and when 
the roses faded I scattered the petals among my linen 
and bits of lace. Here, smell of my handkerchief.” 

Lucien Despretz smiled. 

“ Thank you. Mademoiselle,” he murmured, with 
evident emotion. “ This odor, then, will compel you 
to think of me occasionally.” 

“ By the way, what had you to say to me ? ” 

“ Forgive me. Mademoiselle Andr^e, if I hesitate, 
but the happiness of my entire life is involved.” 

“Why are you so grave? Go on. I am too much 
of a child possibly to understand what you are going 
to tell me, but at all events, 1 beg you to go on.” 

“ 1 wish to inform you. Mademoiselle Andr^e, that I 
intend to ask your parents to give you to me, but I am 
anxious to obtain authority from you first for this step. 
It was for this that I was waiting for you.” 

“ Listen to me a moment, Monsieur Lucien. I wish 
before I marry to know something about the man who 
is to become my husband. 1 shall choose him, not fur 
his good looks, nor for his fortune. I should take him 
because he was good, honorable, honest, and coura- 
geous ; because, moreover, 1 believed him to be capable 
of loving a woman like myself, whose affection is worth 
the trouble of winning. 


84 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


“Now, I do not know you. I can therefore prom- 
ise nothing. Ask my father to admit you to the 
house, and tell him your intentions. Come and see us 
often, and bring your mother with you. We shall thus 
learn to know each other, and can soon discover if our 
tastes and our characters are in sympathy. I have 
never loved any one, and it depends on yourself to be 
the first and the last in my heart.” 

All this dialogue — grave and sensible as it was — was 
carried on as these two young persons walked side by 
side through the streets of Paris. Then came long 
intervals of silence, and some little hesitation at times 
— he not wishing to be too abrupt, nor to alarm her by 
an expression that was too strong, while she was coquet- 
tishly desirous to give him a certain amount of hope, 
yet not enough to inspire him with absolute confidence. 

They finally reached the station, just opposite to 
which Andree bought her pdte-de-foie-gras, Lucien 
took leave of her at the foot of the staircase, at the 
top of which her friends were waiting. 

It wanted precisely ten minutes of ten by the large 
clock outside — they had just time to buy their tickets 
for the round trip. And at ten o’clock the cars whizzed 
out of the station. 

The girls were like children, full of wild gayety, and 
almost irrepressible. At half-past ten they reached 
Rueil. Then, for three sous, they took seats in the 
tiny cars which were to carry them from Rueil to Port- 
Marly. ThisTittle trip they found infinitely amusing. 

At Malmaison they descended, Margot conducting 
her friends to a gate in the stone wall which opened on 
the highway. 

This door admitted them to a garden, which was 
merely an elongated square planted with pear trees. 
In the two corners of the garden furthest from the 
road were two houses overhung with clambering vines. 

“We will dine there,” said Margot, pointing to the 
house on the right. “ Let us carry our baskets there 
now ; my uncle’s servant will arrange tlie table, and 
everything will be ready when we come back.” 


nana's daughter. 


85 


They entered the house, and found on the lower 
floor a large dining room simply but comfortably 
furnished. 

One single object attracted Andr^e’s attention, which 
was a glass on the buffet which seemed to have been 
used that same morning and forgotten. She saw the 
initial engraved on the glass, and shivered. It was 
Paillardin’s initial. 


86 


nana's daughter. 


CHAPTER IX. 
fire! fire! 

I T was about six o’clock when the girls took their 
seats at the table. The sun was setting behind 
the woods, the shadow of the pear trees in full blossom, 
fell upon the gravel walks, all overgrown with weeds. 

The wind began to blow, and rustled the leaves of 
the poplar trees. A gleam of red in the sky behind 
Marly attracted the attention of the girls, who were 
all, except Andrde, in the best of spirits. 

Margot poured out the wine. The glass with an 
initial had disappeared ; those which were on the table 
were all alike and perfectly plain. A petroleum lamp 
was lighted by Margot and placed in the centre of the 
table. 

“We can’t see much with this one lamp,” cried one 
of the girls. “ Where is the other ? ” 

Margot did not answer the question. 

“ My good friends,” she said, “ we must drink to the 
health of the uncle who treats us to champagne.” 

She cut the wire and filled the glasses. 

“ To the health of the good uncle ! ” they all cried 
as with one voice. 

Andr^e was excessively thirsty, and drank from the 
glass which Margot kept filled without realizing what 
she was doing. Suddenly she felt her cheeks begin to 
burn. The objects around her assumed the most 
fantastic shapes. Her companions too began to be 
affected by the champagne. They laughed merrily, and 
accompanied their laughter with a jingle of their 
knives and forks on the plates and glasses, while all 
the time, Margot continued to open champagne with 
diabolical coolness. At dessert, there was a general 
cry : 

“Xa Timballe! Margot; la Timhalle!^' 


nana's daughter. 


87 


“In honor of Andr^e Naviel, the pretty novice!” 
shouted Paillardin’s favorite, as she leaped upon the 
table. 

Then, in a voice which would have done credit to a 
Caf6 ConcerU and with the exaggerated tremolo of a 
diva of the Boulevard, Margot began to sing Judic’s 
couplets in la Timballe, The others took up the chorus, 
keeping time on the glasses with their knives. 

Andree was saddened rather than exhilarated by all 
this noise, and when the air was finished, she observed 
that it was time to start for h6me, and that as for 
herself she should go at once. A shout of laughter 
greeted this statement. 

“ My dear Andree,” said Margot, “ we intend to 
remain here for the night, and although we took our 
return tickets, it was only that you might not suspect 
our intention.” 

“ Stay if you choose, of course ; but I am going.” 

“ Go then, my dear,” answered Margot. “ Go, my 
sweet one ! ” 

“ Where were my hat and mantle put ? ” asked 
Andree. 

“ In the other house,” answered Paillardin’s favorite, 
with a sneer. 

Andree went out bareheaded into the garden. Rain 
had begun to fall in large drops, for during dinner 
heavy clouds had gathered in the sky. 

Andree saw a light in the opposite house, and con- 
cluded that the uncle’s gardener resided there. She 
hurried toward the door, her heart all the time heavy 
with a vague fear; but reproaching herself for her 
folly she persisted. She was conscious that her nerves 
were not exactly right, for it seemed to her that the 
old pear trees in the garden waved her back. 

As her foot touched the first step, she suddenly 
remembered the disagreeable impression produced on 
her by the sight of that glass on which was Paillardin’s 
initial, and at that moment she beheld a shadow pass 
the lighted window — the shadow of a very stout man. 

“ Pshaw ! ” she said, half aloud, “ of course it cannot 


88 


nana's daughter. 


be he ; and if it were, why should I be afraid ? Have 
I not been alone with him repeatedly ? He is called a 
bold man, but he would not dare be insolent to me. 
Men like Monsieur Paillardin never dare attack good 
women. If he were here he would, of course, have 
dined with us.” 

She knocked at the door. There was no reply. The 
door stood half way open, however, and she entered. 
Before her was a narrow stair-case, partially lighted 
from above. Andree went slowly uf) stairs, and 
presently heard the lower door shut with a bang. 

“Come up, my dear; come up, don’t be afraid,” said 
a voice in the upper corridor. 

Andrde looked up, and saw Paillardin standing 
before her. 

In his smile there was something absolutely devilish ; 
but it was too late for Andrde to retreat. She there- 
fore feigned confidence, and continued to ascend. 

“I came for my mantle and my hat,” she said 
quickly. 

“ But you can’t go to Paris in this weather, my dear ! 
I would never permit it.” 

“ My parents will expect me.” 

“ By no means. Margot telegraphed them that you 
would remain here all night.” 

“ It is impossible, sir.” 

“ Pardon me, my dear, but you will remain here in 
this room.” 

“ I wish to leave this house at once, sir.” 

“The door is closed and you are in the trap, my 
pretty bird, for you must know that all this gay f^te 
has been arranged by me merely to get you here. 
Besides, your companions are not pleased to see you 
so very cold to the head of the house of Paillardin 
& Co. The ^rosieres' are all civil to me — all but 
yourself.” 

“Monsieur Paillardin, this conduct is unworthy of 
a gentleman, and I assure you that if I am insulted 
here, I shall be amply avenged.” 

“ And by whom, pray ? ” 


nana’s daughter. 89 

“ By my father.” 

“Your father, indeed! You will not dare to say 
one word to him. If you were silly enough for that, 
he would do nothing, for he knows very well that were 
he to make a scandal, it would interfere with your 
establishment in life. Now, do you understand this? ” 

These words showed Andr^e the full extent of her 
peril, and she saw that there was but one course open 
for her. She took it, terrible as it was. She deliber- 
ately ascended the remaining stairs, and entered 
PaiHardin’s chamber. Through the open window 
came the voices of her companions, who were still 
singing at the supper table. Opposite the window, 
was a bed with a canopy. Around the room were 
numerous long mirrors. In a corner, on a Louis 
Quinze table, stood a lamp like the one she had seen at 
supper. 

The girls had set fire to a punch probably, for the 
light that came through their casement was blue and 
flashing. 

Paillardin locked the door and went toward the 
young girl, who stood behind an arm chair, near the 
lamp. 

“ You must see, my dear,’ he said, “that I am the 
master here. This house stands too far from the road 
for any noise made in it to be heard, even if people 
were passing, which at this hour they are not. Your 
companions, moreover, are too busy to heed. Every- 
thing is in my favor, you see. I have adored you, 
Andree, for a long time, and now I have made up 
my mind to tell you so I ” 

“ I have not one word to say to you, sir, except that 
vou are a miserable coward, and that I loathe and 
despise you I ” 

“You may just now, my dear; but later, when you 
see what I can do for you, the luxuries ^I can heap at 
your feet, you will change your opinion.” 

“ Do not touch me,” said the girl quietly. “ I warn 
you ! ” 

He caught her hands to tear them from the chair. 


90 


nana’s daughter. 


She clutched with desperate strength. She pulled 
them from him, and seizing the petroleum lamp, 
which she had taken care to keep within her reach, 
she threw it at him with all her strength. Paillardin 
received it full on his breast. The glass broke, the 
oil spread over his shirt and took fire. He lost his 
head, and ran wildly about the room, and then threw 
himself on the bed to stifle the flames, which by this 
time had reached the curtains of the bed. They 
blazed. up and then fell a winding sheet of flames upon 
Paillardiu’s writhing form. 

“ Help ! Andree, for God’s sake, call some one ! ” 

Andr^e ran to the window, and catching a vine that 
climbed along the wall, let herself down into the 
garden. It was none too soon, for the room was on 
fire. Paillardin was by this time fatally burned, and 
could do nothing for himself. 

When the girls in the other house saw the flames 
pouring out of the windows, they fled from the place, 
crying ; “ Fire ! five ! ” 

People from a distance, attracted by the light, hurried 
with ladders and water ; but it was too late, Paillardin 
was dead. 

The fire was rapidly extinguished. Andree had 
disappeared. An inquest was held that same night. 

Two of the girls, arrested at the station, related the 
story of the plot formed against Mademoiselle Naviel. 
The door of the house had been found closed and the 
window open, which led to the inference that the girl 
in her alarm had jumped from the window when the 
fire broke out. 

There were many stories set afloat by minors who, 
tempted into this house, had spoken at a later date. 

Andree Naviel was not even summoned as a 
witness. 


kana’s daughter. 


91 


I 


CHAPTER X. 

THE GRAND REVIEW. 

D uring the summer succeeding the tragic death 
of Monsieur Paillardin, the relations between 
the Despretz and the Naviels became very intimate. 
But as the latter family had left the Faubourg Saint 
Antoine and established themselves at Batignolles, it 
was less easy to see them. But the unavowed love 
which united Andrde and Lucien, sufficed to shorten 
distances. 

Andr^e had started in business on her own account. 
Her clientele was assured. Her beauty had ripened, 
and the gravity and sweetness of her face and manners 
were very attractive. Her eyes had acquired a depth 
and meaning hitherto unknown to them, for she loved 
Lucien with her whole heart. 

They talked over their future together, although no 
forQ:ial demand had yet been made to her father, as 
Lucien felt a certain pride and wished to better his 
condition before Andree became his wife. He had 
entered a large commercial house in La Rue Montmartre 
as cashier, but this did not satisfy his ambition. 

His aged mother was without resources, and he 
wished to put aside a certain sum which would bring 
her in a little independent income before he married. 
To attain this end, he imposed on himself absolute 
privations, but did not deem it wise to speak to Andree 
of his motives, as he knew her well enough to be 
certain that she would claim her right to do her share. 

There was, consequently, a little reserve between 
them, and their affection was regarded by their friends 
as merely the kindly liking of young people, who have 
many tastes in common. Madame Naviel, however, 
wished that the young man would come forward 
frankly, and one evening she took advantage of their 


92 


nana’s daughter. 


work-women having gone before Naviel himself came 
from the foundry, to speak with some seriousness to 
her daughter. 

She advised her to have an explanation as soon as 
possible with Monsieur Despretz. Unfortunately, she 
said something which sounded very cruel to her 
daughter. 

“ He may have some suspicion of you in relation to 
Monsieur Paillardin.” 

“ That is impossible ! ” cried Andr^e ; “ however, I 
will have an explanation with him to-morrow. You 
know we are all going to the Grand Review in the Bois 
de Boulogne^ and I shall have an excellent opportunity.” 

Andree did not sleep that night. She wept much, 
and in the morning her eyes retained the traces of 
tears, which the loyalty of the man she loved should 
have prevented. 

The next day, Lucien and his mother came to Batig- 
nolles in the eleven o’clock omnibus, and the two 
families took the noon train at the Batignolles station. 
Lucien asked for five second class tickets to Passy, for 
as they were to walk home by the Champ s-ElysSes^ he 
did not want return tickets. The trains, frequently as 
they ran, were crowded to a degree, and very uncom- 
fortable. 

When they arrived at Passy, Andree did not wait 
for Lucien to offer her his arm, she took it, and drew 
him on far in front of the others, and immediately 
turned down a narrow path where the trees keep out 
the sun. 

Notwithstanding the pleasant weather, and the 
excitement attendant on their excursion, an unac- 
countable sadness weighed heavily on the hearts of 
these young persons. 

When they were alone, Andree looked up in his face, 
and with a world of feeling in her deep eyes, she said : 

“You do not believe. Monsieur Lucien, in the good- 
ness of woman?” 

“ Do not believe in woman, did you say, Andrde ? 
Indeed, I do, more especially since 1 met you.” 


nana’s daughter. 


93 


“ Then speak to me frankly. Admit that since the 
terrible night, when my former employer fell a victim 
to the snare he laid for me — ” 

“ Do not speak of that night, Andrde. I believe in 
your purity, as I do in that of my mother. Do you 
think that life would be endurable to me if I doubted 
you. No, the only woman I have ever loved, the only 
woman I have ever wished to marry, could not have 
fallen a victim to that vile Paillardiu. Tou might tell 
me so, Andr^e, and I should not believe it.” 

“ But suppose it were so, nevertheless ? ” 

“ I should always esteem you, and always love you, 
but I should not have the courage to make you my 
wife.” 

“ I thank you for your frankness, my friend, but do 
me the justice to believe that I should have had the 
delicacy to release you from your engagement unde- 
cided as it is.” 

“ And you would have done well, Andr^e, for the 
man who gives himself entirely to the woman he loves, 
the man who comes to his fiancee and says to her — ‘ take 
me with all my illusions, with all my dreams ; my life 
is yours, my heart has neyer wandered, I have never 
looked on any other woman than yourself, I have 
asked no other girl to love me, — Andr4e, the man who 
can say this has a right to demand the same purity 
from the woman he marries, and it matters little what 
de mi-philosophers say, or what those fools think, who 
believe that a man is not a man until he has wasted the 
treasures of his soul on worthless women.” 

“ Then, Lucien, you never loved any other woman 
than myself? ” 

“None, Andree; I swear it.” 

“ Then, you are he of whom I dreamed when I was a 
mere child, and I am she for whom you have waited ! 
Listen to me. I have been very sad. My mother said 
something that cut me cruelly, and I wept all night. 
She told me yesterday that you doubted me.” 

“But you did not believe it, child? I see now 
the cause of your sadness. Do you know, Andree, 


94 


nana's daughter. 


why I have not yet spoken to your parents? It is 
that you are too rich for me now. I have my old 
mother to support.” 

“ Well ! And cannot I assist you in that ? You are 
proud, my love, and too haughty towards your little 
Andrde, and I cannot understand you.” 

They had by this time reached the lake, where they 
waited for their parents, who were obliged to walk 
slowly on account of Madame Despretz, who was easily 
fatigued. 

The Bois de Boulogne was crowded with people. 

The Review taking place on Sunday, all the Fau- 
bourgs and all the poorer quarters of the city furnished 
their contingents. Whole families in Sunday costume 
came on foot, and carriages began to roll past by nine 
o’clock in the morning. Omnibuses filled with the 
police stopped at the Cascade. The Guards of Paris, 
appointed to keep order for the day, marched in double 
file along the avenues. 

At the same time, long columns of artillery and 
cavalry started from Versailles, from Saint Germain 
and Vincennes, and several regiments, that had arrived 
at dawn, bivouacked in the woods. 

Artisans and soldiers fraternized, and the birds 
alighted on the stacked arms, and warbled a Hymn 
of Praise and the Marseillaise of love. 

The sunlight struck the dewdrops on the leaves, and 
caused them to sparkle like diamonds. 

The people were in the best of spirits, as they 
watched the troops concentrate. They came through 
the Avenue Longchamgs^ through the Avenxie des Lacs, 
by the Pont de Saint Cloud and by the Pont de 
Suresnes, marching with bands playing and colors 
flying. 

The bugle call of the Hussars came from the direc- 
tion of Paris. The artillery from Versailles swept on at 
full speed, followed by one brigade of cuiiassiei’s and 
a regiment of dragoons. Crowds of bourgeois, of 
working people, and of women and children came from 
every point. Every train from Versailles was loaded 


nana's daughter. 


95 


down, as were the boats from Passy, Neuilly, and 
Auteuil. 

At noon the different positions indicated by the staff 
officers were occupied. 

The infantry formed three lines parallel with the 
tribunes. 

Behind the infantry, the artillery were massed in one 
line, while the cavalry occupied a fifth along the road 
to Boulogne. 

Superb equipages began to arrive, and the tribunes 
gradually filled. 

Charming toilettes began to bloom under the tents. 
Light parasols were like luminous spots against the 
black clothing of the men. Fans moved among the 
bouquets, like the wings of gay butterflies fluttering 
over the flowers and the women. 

Afar off in the shadow of the woods family groups 
were resting. 

Aiidr^e and Lucien had just turned into an avenue 
which led to Longchamps, when a loud cry was heard. 

“ Remove them ! Remove them I ” shouted the 
excited crowd. 


96 


nana's daughter. 


CHAPTER XL 

danger in the air. 

W OMEN’S shrieks and sobs rent the air, but the fero- 
cious shouts of the populace drowned their cries. 
Lucien had only time to draw Andr^e aside, for the 
human whirlwind was sweeping toward them. The 
carriages hastily drew up, and their inmates rose to see 
what was going on. And from superb landaus, cabs, 
and coupes, from tilburys and trotting wagons, from 
hotel omnibuses and from family carrioles, curious 
heads were extended. 

Carefully gloved men uttered exclamations of dis- 
gust, young women, with their babies held in the arms 
of nurses on the seats opposite, said, with a shrug of 
the shoulders : 

“ It is odious ! ” 

“ It is a disgrace to Paris ! ” 

“All these women ought to be shut up at Saint- 
Lazare ! ” 

“ Pshaw ! ” answered a young fellow, with a glass in 
his eye, “ since the Republic there have been no real 
fetes — only beggars and such women as these are to 
be seen ! ” 

The curious stood gazing at two women who had been 
arrested, and were being taken away by four men. 
They refused to take a step, and fell on their knees in 
the avenue, imploring mercy. 

“ To Saint-Lazare ! ” cried the crowd — while near the 
lake a chocolate vender kept his little bell ringing, the 
silvery tinkle of which mingled strangely with the 
ferocious hisses of the honest people. 

The police officers, unable to advance, left the two 
women lying in the mud, while they proceeded to tie 
them together. In vain did they struggle. In vain 
did one of them cry out, amid convulsive sobs ; 


nana's daughter. 


97 


“ Mamma ! Oh ! Mamma ! ” 

“ Good Heavens ! ” said Andr^e hoarsely, and turn- 
ing very pale. “I know that voice! — It is Margot’s, 
I am sure I ” 

' She dragged Lucien by the arm until they reached a 
place where she could see. 

Yes, it was Margot, who after the death of Paillar- 
din, finding no new protector, had descended to this 
depth. 

In a very few weeks she had sunk very low. She 
associated with Jules, Monsieur Paillardin’s former 
valet. This man was an indolent fellow, and lived on 
the money Margot brought in, beating her when she 
returned with none. 

In spite of all police regulations, therefore, she was 
open in her defiance of the law, and was finally arrested, 
with another woman guilty of the same offence. 

Margot continued to call “ Mamma ! Mamma ! ” and 
the man who had arrested her, out of all patience, gave 
her a kick, and bade her hold her peace. 

Andrde recognized his voice. This tall, angular 
creature, wearing enormous blue glasses, was Face-d- 
Claques^ the former clown, who, having been beaten 
and kicked by Hercules to his heart’s content, now in 
his turn kicked this poor wretch. 

He was conscious of his degradation, realized fully 
to whom it was due, and felt for the woman who had 
betrayed him, a strange hatred, born of love, but now 
transformed to jealous contempt. 

In spite of Lucien, who tried to keep her back, 
Andr^e went deliberately toward this man. 

The crowd became perfectly silent when they beheld 
this beautiful girl, whose purity was written on her 
face. 

“ Why did you strike that woman ? ” she asked with 
an air of authority. 

“ What is that to you, if you are an order-loving 
girl ? ” answered the former clown. “ Do you call that 
thing a woman ? By what name, then, would you call 
your mother ? ” 


98 


NANA'S DAUGHTER. 


The people did not understand. Why did this 
young lady undertake the defence of a such a person. 
Nevertheless, Andr^e’s interference altered public 
opinion. A murmur arose. They said it was a shame 
to beat a woman in this way at a public fete and 
shock the nerves of the people. What had she done, 
after all ? 

Some fishwomen lifted their hands and shouted : 

“Let those women alone! You are spies, all of 
you I Either let them alone, or provide them with 
food. Don’t you suppose they want to eat as well as 
yourselves ? ” 

This sudden outbreak of that generosity which lies 
dormant in the hearts of the people now rose against 
those men who could strike a woman. 

The former clown struck an attitude, and shouted 
back: 

“ What would you people have ? We are only doing 
our duty. We are paid to arrest these women, and we 
are doing so. Do you think we can live without 
eating? Would you have us steal? Once upon a 
time I was with a traveling circus. I w'as engaged by 
the Hercules, who beat me. Now, it is my turn to do 
the beating. You see, my friends, it is always best to 
be on the side of the handle.” 

During this conversation one of the men had been 
sent for reinforcements, and came back followed by 
twelve policemen and a carriage. 

The two women, bound like beasts for the shambles, 
still lay on the sand. The men dragged them to the 
carriage, and, lifting them both together, pitched 
them in. 

Then the indignation of the people found voice once 
more; they declaimed against the brutality of the 
police force. A formidable cry arose : 

“ Down with the spies ! Duck them ! ” 

There was a great deal of pushing and hustling — 
evidently a row was imminent. The twelve policemen 
struggled to keep together; they surrounded the fiacre 
in which the two women lay. Fortunately a detachment 


nana's daughter. 


99 


of the Paris Guard came to the help of the law. Just 
at this moment a regiment of cuirassiers passed rapidly 
by. All this cavalry was late, and anxious to reach 
the ground before the official cortdge. 

The crowd separated to permit the passage of this 
body of men, and then closed up again, but in this 
brief space of time the carriage in which Margot was 
to be taken to the Prefecture disappeared through a 
cross alley. 

Lucien and Andrde were separated from their fami- 
lies, and the young man in vain attempted to dissipate 
the painful impression which Andr^e had received. 

She could not recover from the shock of seeing 
Margot, her former daily companion, fallen thus low, 
tied like an animal, beaten and kicked, and then thrust 
into this carriage with her associate. 

The green leaves on the trees rustled softly in the 
breeze ; the sky was exquisitely blue ; an occasional 
white cloud was reflected in the lake. The momentary 
anger caused by the brutality of the police was gradu- 
ally calmed by the increasing heat of the June sun. 

Lucien and Andrde walked slowly on, and when 
they reached the Cascade, found room for both on the 
turf. Just as they had established themselves, a jet of 
white smoke enveloped one of the bastions, of Mont 
Valerien, followed by the report of the cannon ; the 
horses attached to the carriages reared and plunged, 
drums beat, and the bands stationed at different points 
began to play. Cries of “ Vive la Hepublique ! rent 
the air. 

Afar off coming from the Avenue de Longchamps was 
the Marshal, holding his hat with its long white plume 
in his hand. His horse was black and showy, while 
around him rode his brilliant staff, with feathers and 
manes streaming in the air. 

Behind came the Spahis, seated on their small horses, 
whose long tails were braided with ribbons, and whose 
fantastic movements seemed designed to call attention 
to the brilliancy of their Arab n^antles. 

This spectacle flashed by like a v^ision of human power. 

a 


100 


NANA'S DAUGHTER. 


At the same moment, a blue landau with silver har- 
ness, drawn by four horses, advanced at a sharp trot. 

A woman with golden hair, dressed in a robe of 
white satin fitting close to her form, and covered with 
jewels, reclined opposite two men. . Her feet rested on 
the seat between them, and her sweeping skirts allowed 
her ankles to be seen through the flesh-colored stock- 
ings which covered them. Two footmen were behind, 
and two black postilions on the horses. The crowd 
was dazzled by this appantion, and admired with 
open eyes and mouth all the elegant articles. 

But from the position in which Andrde sat, she per- 
ceived only Nana’s dazzling hair, and wondered if she 
made her entrSe on the scene intentionally just when 
she did, almost as if escorted by the Presidential 
cortege. 


nana’s daughter. 


101 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE FATE OP THE BLUE LANDAU. 

two men wlio made themselves thus conspicuous 
-L in Nana’s carriage were d’Albigny and the Prince 
de Mulhausen. The latter was a German, transplanted 
to the banks of the Seine — pompous and haughty, 
posing as a man of bonnes fortunes^ and showing him- 
self with Nana out of love of notoriety. He had never 
been in the least smitten with Nana, but he liked to be 
looked upon as her admirer. 

As to d’Albigny, he was the type of a man who 
has lost all social position — a man who puts on many 
airs, but has little honor ; who will fight for a word, if 
not for a thing ; who swaggers in the Salles d'Armes 
in the morning, and is a very Jew at the Bourse 
between noon and four o’clock, and in the evening 
participates in the fetes of the dissipated. 

He lived in great style, breakfasted at Bignon’s, 
supped at the Cafe Anglais^ was dressed by Toires, 
and lived extravagantly on the money of others. 

Simpletons fancied that it was he who paid for 
Nana’s extravagances. She permitted them to think 
so uncontradicted. 

He had launched her, however, and had fought three 
duels for her, and as he was looked upon as one of the 
arbiters of elegance in Paris, he easily found idiots like 
Mulhausen who imitated him. 

Nana and d’Albigny were, nevertheless, several times 
on the point of separating for ever, but she always 
came back to him, more especially now that she was 
eight times a millionaire, and needed some one to 
manage her affairs for her. 

D’Albigny cost her two hundred thousand francs per 
annum, but he prevented her from losing double that 
amount. By investing Nana’s money, and by attend- 


102 


nana’s daughter. 


ing to the affairs of her house and mounting guard 
over its expenditures, he found the means of gratifying 
his own personal desires and fancies. 

The famous landau and horses, which were used by 
Nana for the first time on the day of the fete, and 
which had created such a sensation, had been bought 
by him for fifty thousand francs, although he told her 
he had paid eighty thousand for them. He had secured 
the horses at his own price, and Nana had paid him 
just what he asked for them. In reality, she had lost 
nothing, though her Barnum, as she cynically called 
him, had made two thousand louis. 

Among her adorers Nana counted one honest man — 
Stog, the Postmaster-General. He had never been 
Nana’s favorite, although he was smitten with her, and 
she was well disposed toward him. 

Stog was of a violent disposition. Tall, slender and 
nervous, sanguine to excess — his eyes were often 
bloodshot, and two scarlet spots were on his high cheek 
bones. His hair was thick, his black moustache was 
fiercely waxed, his nose was . curved like the beak of 
an eagle, his chin was prominent, and indicated an 
energetic will, while his muscular hands told of the 
strength to put all his resolutions into practice. 

Stog had married early. His wife was a dSvote^ 
and had borne him two children — a boy now ten years 
of age and a girl of fifteen. His wife having been 
dowerless, the house of the Postmaster-General was 
extremely modest. 

He had never attempted to become Nana’s favorite, 
as he well knew that a year of his modest salary would 
not support her for a month. He never, in fact, came 
to her house except on the days of her general 
receptions. 

This self-possession and this haughty coolness did 
not wound her vanity, but it piqued her. Nana at last 
had found a seeming resistance, over which she was 
anxious to triumph. 

It was not a sufficient gratification to her vanity to see 
Stog on her gala days, when all the rest of her world 


nana’s daughter. 


103 


were there. The evening before the Grand Review, 
she had done her best to induce him to take a seat in her 
carriage that she might exhibit h*er power over him, but 
he succeeded in avoiding this danger. 

Nana now perceived him in the tribune d'honneur^ 
and showed her vexation so plainly that the German 
rallied her upon it. 

“Mulhausen ! ” she cried, revenging her defeat with 
Stog on the German, “ Mulhausen ! applaud quickly, 
that is the battalion Saint Cyr that is coming. Clap 
your hands — louder! — louder! ” 

Mulhausen pretended to laugh under his blond 
moustache, as he sat stiff and erect, his broad shoulders 
crowned by a head covered with faded looking light 
hair, and with his red ears setting out on either side. 

And again Nana issued her commands : 

“ Applaud ! Mulhausen, I insist upon it.” 

Mulhausen obeyed, applauding with the tips of his 
gloved fingers, feeling the color mount to his very brow 
as the woman before him amused herself by insulting 
Germany in his person. 

The battalion of Saint Cyr continued to advance in 
magnificent order under the summer sun. 

Guns glittered on every robust shoulder, each knee 
moved simultaneously with the same alertness, and 
each arm swung with the same mechanical rhythm. 

It was the fiower and the hope of the army that was 
passing — the hope of new France. The young genera- 
tion, baptized in the sufferings of those who had gone 
before, were firmly resolute in their intention to compel 
all other nations to respect France, their country ! 

Afar off on the plain the three lines of artillery were 
changing their position. The regiments formed success- 
ively ill line of march in columns of thirty-two files, 
each headed by a band of music and colors fiying. 

Glittering steel filled the green extent of the hippo- 
drome, and from all the surrounding heights, from 
Suresnes, and the slopes of Mont-Val^rien, from the 
depths of the wood, and from all the avenues rose the 
shouts of the people ; 


104 


nana’s daughter. 


“ Vive la Mepuhlique I ” 

“ Vive VArmeS!'' 

“ Vive la France ! ” 

The Republican Guard and the Gendarmes Mobiles 
followed. 

Then came the infantry. Thirty thousand men, 
massed in divisions, performed all their evolutions 
without once breaking rank, and looked as fresh as if 
they had not marched a step that day. 

The tribunes applauded each division with true 
French enthusiasm. The officers, as they inarched, 
saluted the Chef d'Etat with their sabres. 

When all the infantry had passed, space was left for 
the movements of the artillery, and eighteen batteries 
dashed on at full gallop. At the further end of the 
plain, the heavy carriages wheeled. Two brigades 
assisted in these movements with the regularity of 
machines. The enthusiasm of the people broke out in 
redoubled shouts of “ Vive la France!'' 

“ Vive la France!" was not that saying much, was 
not that saying all in three words? France, notwith- 
standing all her faults and all her weaknesses, was 
she not the generous sister of the humiliated, the ever 
living hope of all proscribed races ? To shout Vive la 
France was to utter the cry of the Future — the cry of 
universal fraternity and libert3\ 

Mulhausen,” said Nana, “ you are as grave as a 
senator on the day of a national fete. This cannot be 
permitted. You must cry Vive la France^ or I will 
never be seen in public with you again.'’ 

At first, the German refused. 

Then she rose to her feet and, in order to annoy her 
companion, applauded violently with her fan. 

D’Albigny laughed in his sleeve. He knew that 
Mulhausen was hopelessly ruined, that he had not more 
than a million of louis left. 

Nana, with true feminine obstinacy, was determined 
to compel Mulhausen to listen to reason, and said with 
biting sarcasm : 

‘‘Admit, Prince, that you are sadly afraid of Bismarck, 


nana’s daughter. 


105 


that you all cringe like school boys before him, 
otherwise you would not refuse to utter a word of 
praise for Nana’s native land.” 

“ Vive la France!'^ vociferated Mulhausen, with 
concentrated rage. 

“ Bravo ! bravo, Prince I ” laughed Nana. 

It was now five o’clock. The sun was sinking behind 
a horizontal cloud of dark slate color, barred with gold. 

Streaks of red ochre below, and luminous shafts of 
red, like glowing flames, were partially veiled by fleecy 
clouds. 

The sloping rays of the sun gilded the tops of the trees. 

The blue landau rolled on until at the rond-point 
they encountered a column of artillery, which at the 
same moment sounded a bugle call. The four horses 
reared simultaneously. The two colored postilions 
were thrown, and rolled under the wheels. The horses, 
no longer restrained, started off at full gallop into the 
crowds of carriages, horsemen, and soldiers, which were 
packed in a dense mass the length of the avenue. 

Other horses were frightened, and broke away. 

The footmen at the beginning of the accident had 
leaped to the ground. D'Albiguy clambered out on 
the pole, and then, mounting one of the horses, seized 
the bridle, but it was too late to be of much service. 

Mulhausen clutched the sides of tlie landau. 

Nana, very calm, turned towards him and said: 

“ It looks to me, my dear Prince, as if we were going 
to have our necks broken.” 

“ Yes,” answered the German, his teeth chattering 
with fear, “ our fates are sealed ! ” 

Nana could not help laughing at his pallid face. 

When the Elysee was reached, the horses made a 
sharp turn, dragging the landau across one of the side 
streets. 

Two policemen snatched at the heads of the animals. 
One of the men lost his balance and fell ; the other was 
trampled on by the horses. Cries of frightened women 
and children rent the air. There was a general 
stampede before the infuriated animals. 


106 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


DREAMS AND FANCIES. 

T the moment when this accident occurred. 



A Andr^e Naviel, who was very weary, had just 
taken a chair with Lucien at her side. The horses 
and the carriage swept down upon them with such 
mad fury that they had not time to get out of 
the way. 

Monsieur Despretz instinctively threw himself be- 
tween his betrothed and the danger, snatching despe- 
rately at the broken reins, one of which caught Andr<^e 
as in a lasso and dragged her along. Fortunately the 
foremost horse ran against a tree and fell ; the others 
rolled over him in a confused mass. 

Lucien lifted Andr^e, who had fainted and was 
covered with blood. Nana clambered from the carriage 
with the agility of a clown. The Marquis struggled 
out from among the horses, for, as usual, d’Albigny 
had fallen on his feet. 

A policeman ran to report at the office, and the 
wounded were carried into a neighboring restaurant. 
Andrde was placed on a bench, where she soon 
recovered. 

Nana looked at her with strange earnestness ; then 
approaching the girl, she said gently : 

“ My child, you are hurt. What can I do for you?-* 

“ Nothing, Madame,” Andree answered courteously. 
“I am more frightened than hurt, I fancy.” 

“ This is not the first time I have seen you, I am 
sure,” said Nana. “ You are very pretty. If this 
gentleman be your admirer, I congratulate him,” she 
added, turning toward Lucien. 

“ And I, too,” interposed Mulhausen. “ I remember 
Mademoiselle very well from having seen her one 
evening at the Bouffes.” 


nana’s daughter. 


107 


Andr^e colored. 

“ Permit me to offer you my ear-rings, in exchange 
for yours,” said Nana. “We shall both, in that way, 
preserve a souvenir of this day. Do you agree to this, 
my child ? ” 

“I think Mulhausen should also offer some souvenir 
to Mademoiselle, in memory of this day,” sneered 
d’Albigny, “ for I fancy that our dear Prince will not 
easily forget it.” 

“ You have divined my intentions with your usual 
perspicuity,” answered Mulhausen, as he removed his 
glove in order to take off one of his rings. 

“I can accept nothing,” said Andr^e, gravely. “My 
ear-rings are a gift from this gentleman, who is my 
betrothed.” 

“ She is positively adorable,” murmured Mulhausen 
in the ear of d’Albigny. 

“ Permit me to call on you, at all events, in order to 
ascertain that you have received no injury,” persisted 
Nana. 

“ Thanks, Madame. This is my card.” 

“Ah! you are a florist, I see. You are very coura- 
geous, my dear, to work when you are so very beautiful. 
To-morrow, then, I will call and see your flowers and 
yourself. D’Albigny, call a carriage, if you please. 
Mulhausen, are you coming?” 

“ Thanks, Madame ; I prefer my feet for the rest of 
the day.” 

Nana uttered a ringing laugh, as she entered fiacre 
which the Marquis had stopped. 

“ Why the deuce do you go near that child? She is 
a good little thing,” grumbled d’Albigny, “ and you 
had best let her alone.” 

“I am the best judge of that,” answered Nana. 

Andr^e took Lucien’s arm and tried to walk; but 
she felt such agony in her right foot that she became 
faint and dizzy. Lucien hailed a coachman going 
toward the Arc de Triomph^ and gave Andr^e’s address. 
At the same moment, the German stepped forward and 
offered his hand to Andr^e to assist her. 


108 


nana’s daughter. 


She thanked him coldl}^, and turned to her betrothed. 
Her parents had been at home an hour when the young 
people entered. 

Lucien described the danger in which Andr^e had 
been. The girl herself said little, but insisted on going 
to the table with the others. The pain in her foot, 
however, momentarily increased. Suddenly she turned 
deadly pale, and Lucien had only time to prevent her 
from falling, when she lost consciousness. 

When she revived she said to her betrothed : 

“ I cannot stay in this room, as I would like to do. 
Help me to my room, please.”, 

Madame Naviel accompanied them, and after Lucien 
had left, assisted Andr^e to undress. The girl’s foot 
was greatly inflamed, and there was a contusion on the 
back of the neck, just at the roots of the hair. 

Hardly was she in bed, than delirium set in. Naviel 
himself went for a pliysician, and Lucien begged that 
he might remain in tlie house all night. 

“ I venture, dear Madame, to ask this favor, because 
I have spoken very frankly to your daughter to-day. I 
was waiting, before making my formal application to 
you, until my position was more worthy of her — but 
I implore you to look upon me from this hour as her 
betrothed and your son. To-morrow, my mother will 
call upon you, and make her wishes in the matter 
known to yourself and Monsieur Naviel.” 

“We shall regard you in future as a member of our 
family,” answered Madame Naviel. “ My husband has 
authorized me to say that he will not oppose his 
daughter’s wishes. Remain then, if you choose, and 
assist us in taking care of her.” 

Madame Despretz was also sent for, and was soon 
seated by the bedside. 

Andr^e was very pale, with the exception of a bright 
spot of color on each cheek. She suddenly raised 
herself on her pillows, and with wide-open, affrighted 
eyes, cried aloud : 

“Leave me, Nana! No, I am not like you. Why 


nana’s daughter. 


109 


are you here ? Leave me, Madame I Ah ! I was sure 
that you would bring me misfortune ! ” 

The doctor came, examined the sick girl, wrote his 
prescription and went away, saying to the father : 

“ The injury to the foot is not grave ; but I am 
anxious about the delirium. Is this young person of a 
nervous, excitable temperament ? Is she particularly 
impressionable ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Pierre Naviel, “and the child is far from 
strong.” 

“Ah! these girls of twenty are troublesome to 
manage,” answered the doctor. “ You must be very 
careful of her.” 

“ Careful ! careful ! ” grumbled the engineer. “ It is 
very easy to talk about being careful. Poor child I I 
try to do my duty by her. Fortunately, she is in love 
with an excellent young fellow. I have done my very 
best to give her good ideas, and she has an honest 
living ready to her hand. The future rests with her— 
all the same though, I shall keep my eyes open.” 

He went to his daughter’s room, and found her 
mother and Lucien watching her anxiously. Tears 
stood in the eyes of the young man. The honest 
workman went up to him and said, with rough affec- 
tion : 

“What! tears, and you a man? Tut, tut, the child 
is in no danger. You may stay though, and help take 
care of her, if you have no confidence in us.” 

“He has a right to stay,” whispered Madame Naviel, 
“for to-night he spoke to me of his affection for her. 
It is all settled between us. I said ‘ yes ’ for you and 
for myself, as I knew what you thought about it. As 
soon as she is well, we will buy her trousseau. She 
won’t object.” 

“ Very well, wife, very well ; that is your affair. I 
leave it all to you.” And he went into the kitchen to 
light his pipe, and sat down there to smoke. 

Madame Despretz and her son remained with Andr^e. 
The old lady was excessively fatigued, and it was not 
long before she was asleep in her chair. Lucien sat 


110 nana’s daughter. 

j 

near the bed, and never removed his eyes from his 
beloved. 

The night wore on, and as the city sank into com- 
parative quiet, the whistles of the various locomotives 
as they whistled into their stations, became more 
distinct. 

Andr^e suddenly started up in bed and looked at 
Lucien presently, as if she recognized him, in spite 
of the confusion of her brain. She held out her hand. 
He passed his arm around her and placed her again on 
the pillow, where she slept peacefully for an hour, 
during which time Madame Naviel came in several 
times. 

About eleven o’clock. Monsieur Naviel went to bed, 
as he was obliged to be up at an early hour to go to his 
work. 

Madame Naviel wished to remain in the room, but 
Lucien pointed out to her that she must husband her 
strength, particularly as she must be in the work-room 
during the absence of her daughter, and finally induced 
her to lie down for two or three hours, while his mother 
and himself remained with Andree. 

Madame Naviel yielded to his reasoning, and he 
continued to watch in the mysterious silence of this 
room into which his dreams had long since penetrated. 

About midnight the young girl started up once more, 
and, stretching out her arms to Lucien, said ; 

“At last, dear, I am your wife. I waited until now, 
that I might tell you softly, with my hand in yours, 
how dearly I love you. Come nearer your Andree, 
my beloved I Am I so ugly that I frighten you? Are 
you afraid to feel my arms around your neck? Ah I 
those cool white roses — how sweet they were*! ” 

He stooped over her, his lips met hers in one long 
kiss, and then, reproaching himself for having thus 
responded to this appeal of unconscious delirium, he 
unclasped her arms from around his neck, and said 
gently : 

“Sleep, my beloved, sleep. I am here, and I love 


nana’s daughter. 


Ill 


you with my whole soul. I will watch by your side 
and protect you.” 

As if she understood him, she closed her eyes wearily, 
the shadow of her long lashes resting on her pale 
cheeks. Her hands dropped helplessly by her side, 
with the fingers extended. 

At this moment Madame Naviel, aroused by Andrde’s 
voice, entered the room, but, seeing her asleep, returned 
to the sofa in the salon. 


112 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XIV. 
temptation. 

T he evening of the review Stog heard at the club 
of the accident that had happened to Nana’s 
carriage. He hastily snatched his hat and light over- 
coat and hurried into the street, where he stopped 
the first fiacre he saw. 

Ten minutes later he entered Nana’s hotel. She 
received him in her boudoir. This boudoir was a 
present from Mulhausen. On one side was a divan of 
rosewood encrusted with tiny figures painted in 
enamel. An upright piano, ornamented with repouss^ 
silver work, stood in one corner. In another corner was 
a round table in the style of the Empire ; it had four 
gilded feet, and the slab was of lapis lazuli. 

On the mantel was a mirror, of which the frame was 
crystal, and represented vine leaves and stalks, from 
which fell clusters of grapes. These grapes were 
amethysts. Two candelabra in the same style rep- 
resented heavy stalks with the same purple grapes. A 
chandelier that corresponded hung from the centre of 
the room. A Candahar rng covered the centre of the 
floor. The mantel was also of crystal ; in the centre 
was a silver “N” surmounted by a wreath of cut 
topazes. 

Before the fender lay a tiger skin, and in the head 
were set as eyes, two gorgeous rubies which had 
belonged to that unhappy Rajah who had been ruined 
in one short week, and then fled to Benares. 

Nana was alone when Stog entered. She advanced 
to meet him, and, extending her hand, said: 

“At last! You have really done me the honor to 
call upon me when my rooms are not full I ” 

“ I only heard within ten minutes of the accident 
that happened to your carriage to-day, and I of course 
hurried here to make inquiries.” 


nana's daughter. 


113 


“ What a singular person you are, my dear Stog ! 
You came, then, from pure politeness? I don’t believe 
you. You choose to aifect a certain coldness toward 
me which you are in reality far from feeling. Why this 
farce? I know you thoroughly. Come now, Stog — 
most stoical Stog, admit that you are crazy about Nana.” 

“ You are very keen, Nana, but I am accustomed to 
your cruelty. You are right, though — I would lay 
down my life for you.” 

“ Listen to me a moment, Stog. You say you 
would lay down your life for me; you come to my 
receptions on rainy da^^s without taking the trouble to 
summon a carriage ; you place your wet hat on the 
furniture in my salon. You are frightfully near- 
sighted, and you generally walk on the lace of my 
skirts at least six times in the course of each visit, 
and I find you a very expensive visitor! And yet I 
ask very little from you, almost nothing; a little 
locket, perhaps — a locket which will hold your por- 
trait, and on the back our initials intertwined. Will 
you give it to me ? ” 

“Yes, Nana, you shall have it; but remember that 
d’Albigny even must not see it — d’Albigny least of 
all. You will be good, Nana? You will not take 
advantage of your power over me ? ” 

“ Upon my word, my poor friend, I begin to think 
you had best leave me, and never return again. 
Take my advice, and go.” 

“ I cannot leave you, Nana ! ” 

“ Then bring me the locket. Ah ! Stog, you do not 
know me yet.” 

She rose as she spoke, and, going to him, placed her 
hands on his two shoulders and looked him full in the 
eyes. 

“ I will buy the locket,” Stog answered in a hoarse 
whisper, “ but if you ever breathe a word about it, I 
will kill you and then myself! ” 

“Unpeople do that sort of thing nowadays? No, 
it would be a silly thing on your part. You will live, 
Stog, you will live for my sake.” 


114 


NANAIS DAUGHTER. 


Nana threw herself on the divan in the attitude of 
an antique statue. She raised her arms to support her 
head on her clasped hands. Her appearance was 
simply exquisite. From among clouds of lace emerged 
an oriental slipper embroidered with pearls. 

“Have you not a daughter, Stog?” she asked, after 
a brief silence. 

“ Why do you ask that, Nana?” 

“ Answer me, have you a daughter ? ” 

“ Yes. What then ? ” 

She hesitated, feeling that she was treading on the 
verge of sentiments which she knew were totally 
different from her own, and hardly knowing what to 
say. 

Stog looked at her inquisitively. 

“ I might be able to help you to marry her well,” she 
said, slowly. “You might find some difficulty in find- 
ing just the husband for her you would like.” 

This man, whose past was spotless, awoke with a 
start as from a bad dream. 

“You marry my daughter ! ” he exclaimed; “and to 
whom, pray ? To one of your admirers, possibly. To 
d’Albigny, perhaps.” 

D’Albigny entered at this moment. 

“ Ah ! ” he said, in a tone of bitter mockery, “ if the 
Marquis d’Albigny did you the honor to accept the 
daughter of a man who sprang from nothing, like your- 
self, you ought to be very grateful — yes, sir, very 
gratefitl. But do not be troubled, the Marquis 
d’Albigny has no fancy for matrimony.” 

“I see that walls here have ears,” Stog observed 
with some asperity. 

“It is as well they should, since these men have 
none.” 

“I don’t know about men,” answered Stog, taking 
a step toward d’Albigny; “I only speak of a Marquis 
iWho has very long ones — long enough, at least, to fit 
him for the post of spy to Madame — ” 

“Enough, gentlemen!” interrupted Nana, rising 
with a bound and placing herself between the two 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


115 


men. “I will have no quarrelling here. No blood 
shall be shed on my account.” 

“ Do not fear,” said Stog, “ I will not fight with this 
gentleman.” 

“I fight with no one, sir,” d’Albigny replied; 
“ because I have nothing to do with other than respect- 
able people.” 

“ That is the reasoning of a coward, sir. I only ask 
that for one week you shall abstain from robbing any 
one, and that you shall prove this to my satisfaction.” 

“ But hoAV can he ? ” asked Nana. 

‘‘ Your assurance will be enough, Madame. You see 
I am not exacting. If in a week you do not send me 
the certificate for which 1 ask, I shall consider that you 
cannot. If you send it, I will come here to your 
hotel with two seconds. I know that you give a f^te 
next Sunday evening. Then and there I will publicly 
chastise your favorite.” 

“As you please, sir,” sneered the Marquis. “You 
will lose nothing by waiting. You spoke a little while 
ago of killing yourself, and I will spare you that 
trouble.” 

Stog, without replying, saluted Nana coldly and 
disappeared behind the silken portiere. 

“ You made a great mistake. Marquis !” said Nana 
sharply, when she was alone with d’Albigny. 

“ How so ? ” 

“ Although I was foolish to speak to him of marry- 
ing his daughter, I still might have obtained what I 
asked.” 

“ What on earth did you want of that locket?” 

“To use against them, if I pleased. The Post- 
master General might be of great use to me on sonic 
occasion.” 

“ It is a species of blackmail which might compromise 
us both very seriously my dear, and coming in as I 
did was the best thing possible. I have now a very 
decided desire to get rid of an inconvenient rival.” 

“Are you going out this evening? ” 

“ Yes ; to the club.” 

T 


116 


nana's daughter. 


“ Are you obliged to do so ? ” 

“ If I were not, I should remain here with you, 
Nana. But the truth is, my pockets are empty. By 
the way, did you know that three of your horses have 
been shot ? ” 

“ It is most unfortunate.’* 

“ Unfortunate, indeed ! ” he answered, as he left the 
room whistling an air from “ RoherL^^ 


N AN a’s d a U (ni t e r. 


117 


CHAPTER XV. 

NANA’S VISIT. 

✓ 

A NDREE slept until dawn. When she awoke, 
Madame Naviel had been up a long time. She 
had lighted a furnace in the kitchen and made coffee. 
She came into her daughter’s room with a cup for 
Lucien just as Andr^e opened her eyes. When the 
young girl saw Lucien she colored. 

“ You here ! ” she murmured. 

“ Why of course,” said her mother. “ He insisted on 
acting as nurse, and would not even allow me to help 
him.” 

Madame Despretz awoke at the same moment, a little 
stiffened by this uncomfortable night. 

“ It would have been better had you gone to your 
bed, dear mother,” said her son, affectionately. 

“ I remained here in order that dear Madame Naviel, 
who has so much to do, might get a few hour’s sleep.” 

Madame Despretz adored her son, and respected his 
abilities. She ha J had a melancholy youth, which left 
upon her an uneffaceable impression, and yet she had 
been beautiful and been adored. Perhaps she had 
suffered from over sensitiveness. A tinge of bitterness 
in her smile indicated that some secret sorrow lurked 
in the heart of this aged woman. In her large, black 
eyes the fire was not quite extinct, and all the life in 
her pale, ivory-tinted face seemed centered in these eyes. 

She ins?feted on aiding Madame Naviel in her house- 
hold labors, that she might the sooner get to her flowers. 

Monsieur Naviel had been gone an hour. He had 
risen several times in the night and gone to Andr^e’s 
door to listen. Hearing her breathe regularly, he had 
gone softly away, unwilling to disturb her. The dawn 
came in through the open windows; the night lamp 
flickered and went out. 


118 


N A A fe DAUGHTER. 


The rich purple cups of the morning glories clamber- 
ing over the windows were full of dew. The milk- 
carts lumbered heavily up the street, and along the 
granite pavements the automatic labors of the street 
sweepers were heard. A blackbird sang in the 
chestnut trees on the square. 

“Do you hear that note?” asked Andr^e, quickly. 
“ It has waked me for the last fortnight.” 

“ And did you rise at this hour ? ” 

“ Of course I did. I like it. It is a time that one is 
sure of, and 1 can do everything better than by the 
light of the lamps.” 

“ You must not talk any more, Andr^e. You had 
a great deal of fever during the night, and if you 
knew — ” 

“ Knew what ? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ I insist on knowing.” 

“You said, then, many things you would not say 
now.” 

“ What sort of things ? ” 

“ Oh ! only that you loved me very dearly.” 

“ Is that all? ” 

“ No ; you declared you were my wife, and you put 
your arms around me.” 

“Is that the truth? No, I never did that — I am 
sure T never did.” 

“What does it matter? You were in a high fever, 
and said what you did not really think. To calm you, 
I took you up as if you had been a little child, and 
when your head rested on my shoulder, you went to 
sleep.” 

“ With my head upon your shoulder? ” 

“Only for a moment, for I placed you on your 
pillows again.” 

Andr^e was never prettier than now. Her eyes 
blazed with fever, her cheeks were brightly colored, 
and in lier smile there was a new expression. 

On the table, near the window, was a cage, in 
which a goldfinch hopped and twittered. He gave an 


NAN A S DAUGHTER. 


119 


occasional peck with his bill on the bars, and looked 
inquiringly at Lucien, whose appearance in Andr^e’s 
room at that hour seemed to occasion him intense 
curiosity. 

Mademoiselle Naviel said that she intended to rise, 
and Lucien scolded her, as if she had been a spoiled 
child. Finally, she promised not to move until he 
came back at night. 

About eight o’clock the young man departed, hurrj^- 
ing to the establishment of which he was a member, 
and Madame Despretz took the opportunity of her son’s 
absence to go to her own home for a few liours. 

Andr^e was, therefore, alone with her mother, the 
work-women, as they came, only entoring her room to 
inquire how she was, having been informed by the 
concierge of what had taken place. 

The morning passed away without incident. 

Madame Naviel sat at her work table, which was 
drawn up near the bed. She did not speak, and Andrde 
watched her with half-closed eyes. 

Occasionally, her mother asked her a question. 
They talked together of pretty Margot, so rudely pun- 
ished, and of Nana, who, without intending it, had so 
nearly caused Andr^e’s death. 

“ If she comes here, we will receive her politely,” 
said Madame Naviel; “women such as she, give work 
to the people.” 

As she spoke, she carefull}^ lifted with her tiny steel 
pincers the petals of a rose, on which she was at work, 
and placed them around the yellow stamens, fastening 
them with a strong wire until the rose was large 
enough. To each petal she gave a form and an indi- 
viduality, and endeavored to imitate the infinite variety 
of Nature. 

When the rose was mounted on the stem, and wrapped 
around with its strips of green paper, she arranged the 
leaves on the right and left, carefully concealing, with 
the same green tissue paper, where they were fast- 
ened. 

Aiidr^e lay thinking of Lucien Despretz. She felt 


120 


nana's daughter. 


proud to know that he had risked his life for her, when 
he rushed between the maddened horses and herself. 
Her heart and her cheeks grew hot, as she wondered 
what she had said to him in her delirium — things, 
probably, that she would not have said at any other 
time, and which he would not repeat to her. 

The morning passed in quiet talk between herself 
and her mother, and in indolent reveries. At about 
three o’clock in the afternoon, there was a ring at the 
bell. One of the work-women opened the door, and 
came in to say that a lady was there to inquire for 
Mademoiselle ; should she come in ? Her carriage was 
at the door. 

“ Show her in,” said the mother. 

The rustle of silk skirts was heard over the floor of 
the salon, and Nana, simply dressed in black silk, 
hurried in and went at once up to the bed, and as she 
took the young girl’s hand in both of hers, she 
exclaimed : 

“ I have been thinking much of you. This accident 
has upset me terribly, but I am very thankful for your 
preservation.” 

Then, turning to Madame Naviel, she said : 

“I need a quantity of roses to fill two Japanese 
jardinieres with, which a friend has just presented me. 
In a week, I give a concert at my hotel, followed by a 
ball. I should like my roses for that occasion. Can 
you give them to me ? ” 

“We can go to work on them at once, Madame. 
What kind do you prefer ? ” 

“ Tea roses, Solfaterres^ some Crloire de Dljon^ Mol- 
maison^ and also some Bengal roses. A good many 
of the last, if you please ; I adore their simplicity. 
They have a hearty look that enchants me. I hope 
Mademoiselle will herself come and arrange‘them in my 
jardinieres, and I give you fair warning that I shall 
keep her that day to dine with me.” 

“ I shall be most happy to do so, Madame,” answered 
Andr^e, “ for by that time 1 shall certainly be able to 
walk.” 


nana’s daughter. 


121 


“Write to me, Mademoiselle, at what hour the roses 
will be ready, or send me word by one of your work- 
women, and my coup4 shall come for you. Are you 
suffering at all ? ” 

“ The swelling has gone down, and the pain is much 
less,” said Andr^e. 

“ Poor little girl, you must have received a kick 
from one of those miserable animals. I nearly broke 
my own neck, although I carefully watched my chance 
to jump. Show me your foot ! ” 

Andrde put her little foot out of the bed. 

“ Have you sent for a physician ? ” 

“Yes, Madame.” 

“Your ankle is much swollen; perhaps some liga- 
ment is broken. Be very careful of it. Does it hurt 
when I touch it ? ” 

“ Yes, Madame.” 

“What a lovely complexion you have, and what 
exquisite hands. You would be a most formidable 
rival. Ah ! the young man I saw yesterday is a lucky 
fellow. He is much better looking than Mulhausen. I 
wish for your sake that he had more money. He is a 
clerk, I presume.” 

“Yes, Madame.” 

“ I once had an admirer years ago who was a clerk. 
He was tall and slender, and as fair as yourself. He 
interested and amused me very much. Why, I don’t 
know ; I was very young then.” 

As she talked, she examined a box of yellow roses. 
She placed one in her hair, and went to the mirror to 
see the effect. Then, returning to the bed, she placed 
the same rose on Andree’s head. 

“ It is astonishing,” she said, “ how much we resem- 
ble each other. The shade of your hair is exactly the 
same as mine, our eyes have the same greenish hue, 
and I have like yourself the same little yellow specks 
in the iris. If you were not this lady’s daughter, I 
should claim you as mine.” 

“ You are too young to have a daughter as old as I,” 
answered Andrde, in all sincerity. 


122 


N ana’s daughter. 


“It certainly would not be to my advantage, my 
dear, to take you about with me as my own child. 
I should prefer to call you m}^ sister. At all events, 
you are very charming, and if I were a man I should 
fall head over ears in love with you. Au revoir^ ma 
belle. Remember my orders, and take care of yourself. 
Adieu, Madame.’* 

She went out in a perfectly natural manner, not 
thinking of the effect she produced, like the generality 
of persons of her class, who when they are playing 
the grande dame drop their eyes to see their black 
skirts, which fall in graceful folds on the carpet, 
rustling over it like dead leaves. 

As she went down the stairs she said to herself : 

“ If this little Andree were 1 must know — I will 

know I ” 


N A N A * S D A U G II T P: II . 


123 


CHAPTER XVL 


nana’s boudoie 


ANA’S Hotel was crowded with workmen, the last 



preparations were being made for the fete she 
was about to give. 

Four large salons on the side next the Park and two 
others on the opposite side of the house, connecting 
with folding doors, were beautifully decorated for the 
ball. 

D’Albigny’s library was transformed into a smoking- 
room and the billiard-room into a card-room. The 
orchestra was placed in the gallery. 

In the early morning of the previous day Nana sent 
her coupe to Batignolles for Mademoiselle Naviel. The 
roses were all finished, and Andree was dressing to 
take the order home when she was informed that 
Nana’s coup4 awaited her. 

Since her accident the girl had grown thin, and she 
limped a little. Her mother did her best to keep her quiet 
and with her foot up in a chair, but it was impossible 
for Andree to look on and see her mother perform the 
thousand little duties which usually fell to her share. 

Madame Despretz had made a formal demand for the 
hand of the girl for her son the day after the accident. 
The Naviels expressed their pleasure frankly, and the 
marriage was decided upon, although the day was not 
fixed. Lucien came every morning to see Andree 
before it was time for him to begin his daily work, and 
appeared again in the evening, generally dining with 
his future father-in-law, seated at the table next 
Andree. 

The morning of the day when Andrde was to carry 
the flowers to Nana, he came as usual, and waited until 
she was ready. 

Never had Andrde looked lovelier. She wore the 


124 


naxa’s daughter. 


same lilac dress she had worn at the Bouffes, and, as 
then, long gloves of the same tint. Both she and 
Lucien were naturally reminded of the white roses 
he had sent her on that occasion. 

Andr^e had never forgotten those penciled words 
and the advice concealed among the flowers. 

When he placed her in the coupe, Lucien said uneasily : 

“ I hope you will not stay long with that woman.” 

“No longer than I can help,” she answered; “but a 
customer like that is of considerable importance to us, 
and if, as she hinted, she expects me to arrange the 
jardinidres, it will take me all the morning. It is even 
possible she may insist on my breakfasting with her. 
She said something of the kind the day she was here.” 

He went away a little sadly. Andree, however, was 
in the best of spirits. 

She was very impressionable, and enjoyed the Ifttle 
excitement of the day. She was almost well again, 
and looking forward to sharing the existence of the 
only man she had ever loved. Her future, therefore, 
looked to her serene and hopeful. 

The roses she had made for Nana were wonderfully 
true to nature. A fete like that which this woman was 
about to give would make every artist who had con- 
tributed to it more or less conspicuous, and, notwith- 
standing her timidity, Andr^ie felt a feminine curiosity 
in penetrating the Hotel of a woman who was so 
celebrated, and about whom all the luxuries of the 
world were gathered, and who swallowed up the 
revenues of a kingdom. 

She with diflic ulty found room for herself in this 
coupe lined with blue satin, so full was it of the 
flowers which she and her mother had made during the 
week. 

Nana had just flnished her bath when Andree 
arrived. 

Virginie, the maid, took the girl at once to the bath- 
room, the floor of which was of black and white 
marble. Nana was hastily attiring herself when they 
entered. 


nana’s daughter. 


125 


Virginie rubbed the little feet of her mistress and 
put on the tiny slippers. 

“ Make haste, my girl,” said Nana, “ I am crazy to 
see my roses. I am sorry to keep you waiting, Made- 
moiselle, but I will be ready in five minutes.” 

When she was enveloped in a long peignoir of satin 
de chine, which she wore with the utmost grace, she 
took Andree by the hand and went to see the roses, 
which the coachman had heaped carelessly at the foot 
of the stairs. 

Nana thought them charming. 

“ You must teach me to make flowers. Mademoiselle, 
it would amuse me to know how to do anything,” said 
Nana. “ I can sing, to be sure, and I have a good voice. 
I could go on the stage, but I do not need money, you 
know. A woman like myself, a daughter of the people 
having become a social power, renders many services to 
the poorer classes. The money we put in circulation 
goes continually into the pockets of the working people. 
What would Paris be without us ? What would become 
of the mechanics ? — of the artists ? ” 

She uttered a laugh which echoed through the high 
corridors. 

“ Will you come with me. Mademoiselle? ” she said. 
“ While Virginie dresses me for breakfast we will talk 
together, if you please.” 

“ I am at your orders, Madame,” answered Andree. 

Together they ascended the wide, low stairs of rose- 
colored marble, and entered the boudoir, where 
Virginie was waiting to dress Madame’s hair. As they 
walked, Nana’s slippers made a little clicking sound. 

When she was dressed, she said again to Andrde: 

“ Will you come, dear, and give me some lessons in 
flower-making ? I will pay you whatever sum you ask. 
The question of price is of no consequence whatever. 
You please me very much. I wish I had a daughter 
like yourself; it seems to me that I should love her. 
I love nothing now, and am weary of everything. I 
would bequeath her my fortune. You are very lovely, 
my dear, and, I am sorry to say, very stupid, to live as 


126 


nana’s daughter. 


you do, marring the beauty of those dainty fingers, 
and stooping over your work — your shoulders will 
become rounded and you will grow ugly. In a few 
years you will grow old. But tell me, my dear, how 
many hours in the day do you work?” 

“ Twelve in the good season, Madame.” 

“ Twelve hours ! And you call that a good season 
when you have to work twelve hours out of the twenty- 
four? Poor child! You will lose your eye-sight too, 
in that way. What do you make by your labor? ” 

“My mother and myself make between us fifteen, 
sometimes twenty francs — ” 

“ An hour, you mean ? ” 

“No, Madame, a day, and we consider ourselves 
highly favored. There are women who make only 
thirty sous.” 

“ Only thirty sous a day ! Well I my dear, I never 
work, but I have all the money I want, and I think 
you must admit that toiling women are foolish ones ! ” 

“ No, Madame,” said Andr^e, “ they are happier than 
you.” 

“ Do you really think so ? How can they be happy 
when they work hard and make nothing?” 

“ Ah, Madame, do you count it nothing that the man 
we love has confidence in us, respects as well as loves 
us, and the tender , kiss he gives us, when he comes 
home weary from his work, pays us better for our own 
labors than all the jewels in the world.” 

“ You are right. Mademoiselle. Our paths are very 
different. Nevertheless 1 cannot but feel regret when 
I see a pearl like yourself in such a common setting. 
If you had toilettes, diamonds, horses and a hotel, ail 
Paris would be at your feet. You would have your 
claqueurs, your chroniclers, your painters, photogra- 
phers, and sculptors — even the money of the country 
would be stamped with your head, my little Queen I I 
am quite in earnest, child, in what 1 say.” 

“ 1 prefer to be loved by the man I love, than to see 
at my feet an adoring crowd. All these costly follies 
of which you speak do not tempt me.” 


nana's daughter. 


127 


“ But if you were dressed as you deserve to be, the 
man whom you love would find you much prettier, 
and would adore you still more. Look here, now, I 
will let you judge for yourself of the effect you would 
produce. Virgiiiie, bring that dress I wore at the 
Review. This young lady’s figure and mine are so 
much alike that my robe will fit her like a glove ; bring 
too, that lace skirt, and the silk stockings which match 
the dress. 

Virginie obeyed, and was desirous of dressing 
Andrde herself, but Nana said : 

“No, no, go away, I want to do it — I am sure you 
would worry her with your manners — ” 

“ Permit me to observe, Madame,” said Virginie, in a 
much injured tone, “that my manners are all they 
should be ; but, of course, if Madame wishes to play 
with Mademoiselle as if she were a new doll, I can go 
away, I am not jealous.” 

Having thrown this Parthian dart, Virginie departed. 

Then, with passionate tenderness, Nana folded the 
girl in her arms, and kissed her over and over again. 

Andr^e, carried away by the coquettish desire to see 
her beauty in new adornments, allowed Nana to do 
what she chose, the elder woman stopping from time to 
time to admire and kiss the girl. 

Suddenly the portiere of the boudoir was lifted and 
d’Albigny, with a smile on his lips which showed his 
white teeth, with his head erect, his heavy black mous- 
tache and strong white hands, entered the room. 


128 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XVIL 

ANDREB SPEAKS. 


A NDREE rose to retire. 

When he beheld her, d’Albigny stood motionless, 
as if struck by admiration. 

“ Well ! what do you think of her. Marquis?” asked 
Nana. 

“ I think she is simply adorable ! ” 

And going up to Nana he kissed her hand. 

“ I thank you,” he said, “ for having arranged this 
little surprise for me.” 

“ I did not do it quite intentionally. Marquis,” 
answered Nana in a low voice, “but still I am glad you 
have had the opportunity of seeing her.” 

D’Albigny went toward Andr^e, and holding her 
slender fingers in his strong hand, he said : 

“ I am sincerely glad. Mademoiselle, that you are no 
longer suffering from the accident which was so nearly 
fatal to some of us, and I am tempted to bless this 
adventure, since it has procured us the pleasure of 
seeing you here. You are adorable in this costume, 
and I may say without flattery that the resemblance 
to Madame is startling, and she, you know, is recognized 
as the most beautiful woman in Paris. You are very 
young. How old are you ? ” 

“Nineteen, sir.” 

“And your daughter, Nana, would be the same age.” 
“ W ould that this girl were she. I should adore her. 
I should triumph in her triumphs, and she should have 
all that money can procure. This child has much to 
learn. Marquis.” 

“Madame is right. You have everything to learn. 
Mademoiselle. You will, if you remain as you are, 
end by marrying some petty employ^. 

“ You are very good,” answered Andr^e, with gentle 


nana’s daughter. 


129 


sarcasm. “ I fear, however, that I am condemned to 
spend my life amid my present surroundings. I love 
my family, and am on the point of marrying — ” ‘ 

“ That tall young fellow we saw with you, I presume. 
He is not ugly, but he dresses himself in the most 
deplorable fashion, and my experience has taught me 
that a man who dresses badly never succeeds in any- 
thing. Now I, for example, have spent a great deal of 
money, I am deeply in debt — I live, I eat, I play, and 
do what I please, merely because I know how to walk 
and to dress, and because I understand the world as 
few men do — ” 

A lackey now knocked at the door and said ; 

“ Madame, breakfast is served.” 

Andr^e started. This voice was not unknown to 
her; she recognized it as well as the speaker. 

“Come my child,” said Nana, “keep on that dress, 
it fits you wonderfully well, and is very becoming. 
We will breakfast together, we three. Give me your 
arm, d’Albigny.” 

The Marquis obeyed, and they took their way to the 
dining-room. 

Andrde was very uncomfortable, for she did not like 
the manner of the Marquis nor his words, nor was 
she pleased with the caresses of this woman, nor with 
her sophistry. She felt as a person might feel who is 
carried to some strange planet, and who has literally 
nothing in common with the people he encounters. 

It seemed to her that she was unable to reason any 
more ; her conscience reproached her for listening to 
what was said. And all the time, as she sat listening 
to the Marquis, she went over and over the arguments 
she had used to defend the choice she had made of a 
life of domestic happiness and toil. 

She was conscious that all this magnificence grati- 
fied her, that the fiattery of this woman pleased her, 
and that she herself felt a secret pride in calling the 
attention of these two to the sacrifice they believed her 
to have made. 

The voice of the man, the lackey whom she had 


130 


nana’s daughter. 


known as a clown and a police officer, had awakened 
her from her wretched dreams. Why had she been 
w'eak enough to allow this woman to make a plaything 
of her and dress her like a doll ? 

She passed through the portiere which the tall lackey 
held aside. 

He murmured in her ear : 

“ Do not look as if you recognized me, Mademoiselle. 
I am not known here. They call me Luke now.” 

And with the most correct bearing, his face carefully 
shaven and his hair well trimmed, looking perfectly 
respectable in his black coat, he entered the dining- 
room behind her. 

It was an octagonal room, paved with Florentine 
mosaic — not very large, but in perfect proportion. 
From the dome-like ceiling hung a massive silver lamp 
which represented eight Cupids, with their wings 
spread, rolling a globe with their feet, and each Cupid 
brandishing a torch with three branches. A large 
double door communicated with the suite of rooms 
used for entertaining. Three long windows opened on 
a semi-circular balcony built around an octagon tower, 
which occupied one angle of the hStei, and looked out 
upon a most beautiful view. 

Four mirrors were set in panels opposite each other. 
The table was round, the service in Sevres and in 
Baccarat crystal with a coronet, and Nana’s initial 
engraven upon it in raised letters of gold. 

D'Albiguy sat next Andr4e, and Ndna opposite both. 

Luke stood behind his mistress. 

“Would you believe, Marquis,” said Nana abruptly, 
“that there are women who live on thirty sous a day?” 

“ No, ch^rie, I would not believe it, for admitting 
that these poor creatures would like to do so, they 
can’t; it is an absolute impossibility. Mademoiselle, 
you agree with me, of course ? ” 

“No, sir, for 1 have proof to the contrary. I have a 
uew work-woman, an orphan, to whom 1 give no more.” 

“She has other means, then?” said Nana, 

“No, Madame.” 


nana’s daughter. 


131 


“ How on earth does she manage it ? ” 

“ Her food costs her fifteen sous daily, her room ten 
francs a month ; she never drinks wine, lives without a 
fire, washes her own linen, and makes all she wears.” 

“• There are some existences which it is impossible to 
understand. Better never to have been born than live 
like that ! ” 

“ Poverty comes to the rich sometimes, Madame, and 
often when least expected. The terrible thing is to be 
reduced to poverty after living in luxury.” 

' “ You look. Mademoiselle, as if this fate might event- 
ually be mine, but that is quite impossible. Is not that 
so, d’ Albigny ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, Madame. As long as you are Nana so long I 
shall be d’ Albigny. Together we have nothing to fear, 
and so much the worse for the others.” 

After breakfast, Nana rose to go and see her flowers. 

“Luke, come with me,” she said. “You will carry 
my roses to the gallery, where I will arrange them by 
and by with Mademoiselle. Wait for me here,” she 
said to Andr^e, “ I will be back in a moment.” 

The Marquis was left alone with the young girl. He 
went to her, and with an air of courteous kindness 
took her hand. 

“Would you like Nana to adopt you — to take you 
to live with her, and make you her heiress?” he said, 
without the smallest preamble. 

“ Thanks, sir ; I prefer to work.” 

“But you are unreasonable. It is impossible that 
you should prefer the life of a slave to the existence 
you would lead here.” 

“1 cannot renounce my family or my fiance.” 

“ You need not renounce your family. On tlm 
contrary, you will have it in your power to be very 
useful to them. As to your fiance, you could marry 
him if he has a ray of sense. Otherwise it becomes 
our duty, having your interest at heart, to insist on 
your giving up this youth. Others will love you. 
You will be understood as you deserve to be. Now, 
8 


132 


nana's daugiiter. 


if you permit me to manage your affairs, I will make 
you enormously rich.” 

“ Your words are insults, sir ! ” cried Andr^e, her 
eyes flashing with anger and her cheeks red with 
indignation. 

She said this in a voice which shook with emotion, 
and she rose hastily from her chair with a nervous 
dread that she had fallen into a trap. Where was 
Nana? Why had she left her alone with this man 
whom she began to loathe? 

The young girl knew nothing of his history or of 
the manner in which he lived in that house. She was 
thinking of Paillardin, and asked herself if the world 
was full of such men, and her soul swelled with 
contempt. 

“ I give you my word,” the Marquis replied, “ that 
I intend no insult. I assure you no one in this house 
shall ever be guilty of the smallest impertinence 
toward you.” 

‘‘I have misunderstood you, then. I ask your par- 
don, sir.” 

“Ah I petite^ your irony is very keen — but never 
mind! 1 am inclined to believe that it is wiser to 
permit you to cherish your fancy for this young man. 
Marry him, ma belle! marry him by all means. Go 
find Madame, put on your simple costume, and arrange 
your roses. Go, Mademoiselle, I would not detain you.” 

He smiled with disdainful pity. 

Andr^e did not reply, but left the dining-room in- 
stantly. She met Nana in the corridor, and said to her; 

“ I regret, Madame, that I cannot remain any longer 
in your house, for my work calls me home.” 

“The Marquis has been talking to you, I fancy, 
my dear, but there was no need of getting angry with 
him. At heart he is a very good fellow, only you 
ought never to contradict him. Luke,” she continued, 
“show Mademoiselle the way to my room, where she 
can change her dress.” 

As soon as the man was out of hearing of his mis- 
tress he said to Aiuiree: 


nana’s daughter. 


131 


“ You know me, I see, and now listen to wliat I say. 
Never — no, never, come to this house again. I have 
come to the surface, as you see, once more, and I value 
my life again. I have been placed here to prevent a 
little of the thieving which goes on all the time in this 
house, and I keep my eyes open night and day. My 
ears, too, are pretty big. You remember how Hercules 
used to pull them years ago ? W ell ! all that is said 
here tumbles into them. If you knew how I had 
learned to hate in these eight years of misery ! I 
have grown as wicked as everybody else. I have 
no interest in any human being except in you and 
your father, who did me a very bad service when 
he pulled me out of the water. Now I have but one 
aim in life, and a terrible one. I have attached my- 
self to this house, to this woman, to this Marquis, in 
order to ruin them as they have ruined me. I will 
knock the supports from under the monument they 
h^ve built up of their opulence. I will show them 
as they are. lam somebody now — I have the whole 
police force at my back. I am no longer a clown, 
l/am no longer a beggar. 1 am no longer he whom 
you saw arresting women in the street, I am now 
in a safe position. I leave you to dress, now. Made- 
moiselle, and pray heed my words, do not come here 
again.” 

He walked away, muttering to himself. 

Virginie now appeared. 

I am sent to assist you. Mademoiselle,” she said 
respectfully. 

1 regret that Madame should have disturbed you,” 
answered Andr^e, 1 am quite accustomed to waiting 
on myself.” 

She changed her dress hastily, and in ten minutes 
was in the street, feeling intense relief as she breathed 
the pure air and saw the sunshine and busy people 
moving about. 


134 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

M A B T L L E . 

A ll that evening the workmen were still busy in 
Nana’s hotel, and she, to escape from the con- 
fusion, insisted on d’Albigny going with her to 
Mabille. 

The garden was lighted when she entered, flowers of 
flame bloomed among the branches and luminous fruit 
hung from the trees. The cascade and grotto were 
mysteriously illuminated. 

About eleven o’clock Nana’s entrance made a sensa- 
tion. She wore a robe of black velvet with a long 
train, a mousqvietaire hat of black felt, ornamented 
with a blue feather ; her jewels were sapphires, 
mounted in silver. 

When she reached the Arcade — Luke was behind 
her in full livery, and she was leaning on d’Albigny’s 
arm — dancing had begun, and a crowd gathered to 
look at the dancers, who were as serious as if they had 
been official personages fulfilling some important func- 
tion. There was only one man, a little fellow, who 
amused the gallery with his fantastic gestures and 
impossible attitudes. The women amused the English- 
men present by their odd manner of dancing. The 
ladies who had accompanied these foreigners looked on 
the contrary, greatly distressed. 

An attentive circle of habitues looked on with a 
slightly bored expression, while a number of provin- 
cials, who occupied front seats with their wives, seemed 
to feel the most absolute consternation. 

When Nana entered it was almost as if she had been 
announced by some one of the policemen with silver 
badges glittering on their breasts. Her name ran from 
tongue to tongue. Her silent admirers drew back to 
permit her to pass. She seated herself with the 


nana’s daughter. 


135 


Marquis near the grande salle^ where on rainy evenings 
the dancing took place. 

Luke stood behind her chair, erect and silent. 

“ My dear,” said d’Albigny, in reply to a question 
which Nana asked, “ I will tell you all I discovered in 
regard to the matter in which you are so interested. I 
obtained my information at the Hospice des Enfants- 
AssistSs. 1 made use of the powerful influence of a 
friend at court, and discovered through it that which is 
never revealed. I learned what had become of your 
daughter, and — mark how truly your instincts guided 
you — this young Andrde, who was saluted at the 
Bouff’es as Nana’s daughter — this little florist, who 
resembles you as an eglantine resembles a rose — well ! 
this girl is your own child. She is only the adopted 
daughter of the good people who have brought her up, 
and when she knows that you are her mother she will 
surely come to you. There are hereditary fatalities, and 
this child must have inherited something of your tem- 
perament, something of your fire ! ” ^ 

“The associations in which she has been brought up 
have possibly extinguished the fire of which you speak. 
Ashes have been thrown on the living coals, and it is 
too late — ” 

“ It is not too late for you to claim her, Nana, and 
these good people, who consider her, of course, as a 
sacred charge, will not refuse to surrender the treasure 
when they know that you are her mother, and that you 
can prove it.” 

“ The girl is adorable I I shall go crazy over her ! 
and 1 shall probably become jealous of every person 
who speaks to her.” 

“Then you had much better leave her where she is, 
for the day, Nana; that you begin to indulge in the 
virtues of the bourgeoisie^ you will begin to grow 
old. 1 speak to you as a friend, plainly and without 
flattery. 1 say things which no other among your 
admirers would venture to say, but that many would 
think. They are all afraid of you; but they would 
turn their backs upon you, were you to lose your 


136 


NANA’fcj DAUGHTER. 


sceptre, while to-day they adore the very ground you 
tread upon. I know more of life than you do, and if 
it is in penitence that you assume your motherhood, if 
you have no practical aim in taking this girl home, 
then all I have to say is, that you had best remain Nana 
to the end. But to return to Andr^e. I am greatly 
mistaken if, when she knows you are her mother, she 
resists your entreaties. You must not forget the role 
you are to play, Nana — tenderness, maternal affection, 
and all that sort of thing. A few tears would not be 
amiss, if it should come to pass that your daughter 
refuses to follow you; but you are to stand firm, and 
when she is softened, take her away instantly ! I will 
manage the rest. But above all things, Nana, summon 
up a few tears ; you are absolutely irresistible when you 
weep. I have often seen you employ this heroic means 
to soften the hearts of certain monsters who wished to 
compel you to pay your debts. I remember that I, 
even I, d’Albigny, was once taken in ! ” 

“ I am afraid her fiaiic^ will be troublesome — the 
child has a hankering after the conjugal yoke.” 

“ That makes no difference, Nana — we can manage 
the husband. The world will think all the better of 
you, for marrying your daughter.” 

“ I do wish, d‘ Albigny, that you would not use such 
unpleasantly plain language. Suppose you should be 
overheard ? ” 

“ 1 should be looked upon as very sensible, and be 
respected accordingly. Look ! there is Mulhausen, 
who sees us, and is coining to pay his respects.” 

Mulhausen, in fact, was seen making his way through 
the crowd, conspicuous in light gloves, his head very 
erect, his face very red, and his whiskers more faded 
than ever. 

He had adopted, in order to give himself a knowing 
air, eye-glasses set in gold, and sucked the tortoise- 
shell ball on the top of his cane perpetually. 

“How are you, dear Prince i'” said the Marquis. 
“Have you quite recovered from the shock?” 

“ And you, Marquis ? ” 


nana’s daughter. 


137 


“ My dear Mulhausen,” Nana exclaimed, “ d’Albigny 
is not a man to be greatly moved. As to myself, I am 
not yet consoled for the accident. My two colored 
postilions are dead, and my three horses. I have one 
remaining which, by the way, I offer you.” 

“ Thanks, fair lady. Prussia asks my services, and 
your Parisian coachmen cannot drive. Since that day, 
I have renewed my stable, men and horses. They all 
came from Germany. I intend them to appear to-mor- 
row, in honor of your f^te. By the way, have you 
written to Stog yet ? ” 

“ Only an hour ago,” answered d’Albigny. “ Madame 
sent me a letter which she wished me to copy, and I 
did so.” 

The Marquis took a paper from his pocket-book 
and handed it to the Prince. Mulhausen arranged his 
glasses, and read in a low voice the following letter : 

“ ‘If Monsieur Stog does not come as he promised, I 
shall believe that he is actuated either by fear of 
d’Albigny or myself. I certify that the Marquis has 
never given Monsieur Stog the smallest pretext for 
withdrawing.’ ” 

This letter was signed by Nana. 

‘‘He is quite foolish enough to come,” said the 
Prince. 

“ I shall always regret this man,” said Nana, with a 
sigh. “ His brusque frankness pleased me ; but he 
detested d’Albigny, and d’Albigny is too true a friend 
to be sacrificed to any one else.” 

“ You are quite right, Nana,” exclaimed the German, 
“and, in fact, had not d’Albigny disembarrassed you of 
him, I would have been only too glad to perform the 
little service for you.” 

“ If you like, I will yield the honor to you,” said 
d’Albigny, sarcastically. 

“No, you can’t do that,” answered the German, “for 
it was you he insulted. If it had been me, 1 should not 
have waited a week to ask why.” 


138 nana’s daughter, 

** Do you propose to give me a lesson, Prince ? ” 

“ I give you a lesson ! By no means. You do not 
need one, Marquis.” 

“Upon my word,” exclaimed Nana, “ it strikes me, 
my dear Mulhausen, that it is not best for you to con- 
stitute yourself an authority in matters of this kind, for 
you have not the requisite cachet.^' 

The German gnawed his moustache in silent rage. 
At this moment, a lackey in a blue livery was seen 
making his way through the crowd. 

“Ah! there comes the reply from Stog,” said 
d’Albigny, and turning toward the tall lackey, with 
the impassive face, who stood behind Nana, he said ; 

“ Luke, go tell him where we are.” 

Luke went away and soon returned with the other. 
Nana took the letter he brought and read aloud : 

“‘I ha'Ve the honor of accepting your invitation, 
Madame, and will present to you two of my friends. 

“ ‘ Stog.’ ” 

“Good!” said Mulhausen, in his strong German 
accent. 

The orchestra was playing a mazourka, and the 
crowd watched the dancers, who were always the same. 

The women half lay in the arms of their partners, 
with their heads on their shoulders. The men danced 
with their knees bent and their hats on the back of 
their heads, looking like satyrs in coats. 

And all around the circle, women in conspicuous 
costumes wandered about, seeking to make acquaint- 
ances, asking for a glass of wine from two classes, the 
very young men or the very old, these two being the 
most lavish of money. 

• There was one old gentleman, short and stout, with 
white hair and a dyed moustache, whom they all 
seemed to know ; but he paid little attention to any- 
thing they said. 

Meanwhile, under the gallery and along the arcade, 


nana's daughter. 


139 


brilliant members of Nana’s world sat looking on, with 
a smile of derisive pity. 

“ Come ! ” said Nana, “ this is stupid.” She rose as 
she spoke. 

The Marquis yielded her arm to the Prince, as he 
wished to speak to a friend. 

“ To-morrow night, then ? ” asked the friend. 

“ Probably,” d’ Albigny replied. 

“ I am at your disposal, my dear Marquis.” 

“ I rely on you.” 

“ And with reason. Who is your other second ? ” 

“ The Prince de Mulhausen.” 

The two men separated after a cordial pressure of 
the hand, and d’ Albigny hastened after the couple who 
by this time were nearly at the door, followed by the 
two lackeys in blue. 

Luke was as stolid as ever; but in his eyes there 
was a strange expression, quite new to them. 


f 


140 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE FATE OF THE GORILLA. 

1 ''WENTY years before, Luke had been for three 
brief months, Nana’s admirer. He was then very 
young, and she, to her knowledge, had never seen 
him since. 

He had committed a crime in borrowing ten thousand 
francs from the amount confided to his care. Nana 
had refused to take this money in payment for her 
child, and had the man arrested, just when he was 
about to restore the money. 

At his trial, he had shown so clearly that he had 
been on his wa}’- to return the money, that the Court 
did not condemn him. 

Penitent and ashamed of his fault, he dared not 
attempt to obtain a situation where he was likely to be 
recognized by former acquaintances. When released 
from prison, he was without one penny. He gradually 
slipped into a life of expedients — living from hand to 
mouth, and never knowing where his dinner was corn- 
ing from the next day. 

In spite, however, of his debasement, he felt a keen 
regret for his past respectability, and a strong wish to 
find a place in the world once more. 

Therefore, when he thought of all he had lost, of 
the woman who had betrayed him, 'who had robbed 
him of his honor and of his child, he felt himself 
shaken from head to foot with a gust of passion, in 
which jealousy, regret, and hatred each had a share. 

He would have given his life to embrace his child 
once, and for a long time had been attracted by every 
little girl he happened to see. Aiidrce struck his 
fancy, especially the day he saw her at Saint Cloud. 

Nana, too, he saw that day, but she had not recog- 
nized him. 


nana’s daughter. 141 

After this, Face-d~ Claques gave up his profession as a 
clown, and became miserably poor. This life of priva- 
tions aged him to that degree that he was totally 
irrecogiiizable. 

One day, weary of life, he attempted suicide, and 
was saved by Pierre Naviel. After this, he had not 
the courage to make another attempt. 

He entered the police-des-moeurs^ where he made 
himself useful. He ate and drank as much as he 
wanted. He became actually the confidant, and the 
tyrant of outcast women, and felt a bitter joy in 
avenging his own wrong on them. He performed his 
duties with a fierce zeal that recommended him to the 
favor of the Prefecture. 

He never loved any other woman but Nana, and no 
one had power to drive her memory from his heart. 

Three days after the Review, when Nana had seen 
him clothed in a little brief authority, he was called to 
another position ; an unlooked for chance presented 
itself. The Government wished to establish a surveil- 
lance over Nana’s hotel, where persons high in political 
life paid their court, where rich strangers constantly 
appeared, where the Postmaster General was to be 
seen, where the Prince de Mulhausen made himself 
conspicuous, where certain Jesuits went in and out 
with stealthy footfall, and where there was a constant 
sound of the jingle of gold. 

The Government wished to know the truth about 
d’Albigny, and to make all these discoveries and inves- 
tigations, a man was required whose eyes and ears 
could be depended upon. 

Nana’s old admirer asked to be put on this duty, and 
obtained the consent of the officials. 

Just at this time, Nana was looking for two lackeys 
to replace those who had died. The man from the 
police office applied, and was not recognized. 

He had suffered excessively the last twenty years, 
had grown even thinner, and was frightfully wrinkled. 
He offered the best of . references, and was at once 
received. 


142 


nana’s daughter. 


But in a few days, his former admiration for Nana 
awakened. The continual sight of this woman, who 
had lost none of her fascinations — who had gained new 
ones in fact — whose intellect and wit had developed, 
and whose manners were very different from what they 
had been at twenty, disturbed the hard-won equanimity 
of the former clown^ 

A painful shock ^\’Us his, when he heard at Mabille, 
from d’Albigny’s words addressed to Nana, the ties 
that united Andrde and herself. He felt sure that 
Andr^e was his daughter, and also that a detestable 
plot was being organized against the peace of this 
young girl, who had been educated to love honest toil. 

Then a frightful contest began within him, between 
his old love for the mother, and the new-born tender- 
ness for the child. 

Nana appeared again in his life, as the fatality that 
lured him to destruction. The mad idea entered his 
head of going to her room in the night and killing her, 
and thus saving his little Andree from the toils of 
a man like d’Albigny, and the influence of her mother. 

It was this halMormed intention that imparted the 
tragic look to his eyes when he left Mabille, walking 
stiffly by the side of the other lackey. 

The moon had risen. Its silvery light inundated the 
hues of the Champs ElysSes, A few white clouds 
floated like plumes over tiie blue expanse. ' The heat 
was intense, and the delicate tips of the branches of 
the trees hung limp, under the weight of white dust 
with which they were covered. 

On reaching Nana’s hOtel, Luke, whose duties were 
now over for the night, took refuge in his attic-room ; 
from the window, which was in the slope of the roof, he 
could see those of Nana, whose chamber was situated 
precisely in the middle of the body of the house, while 
Iiis attic was in a projecting wing. 

Often in the evening, after extinguishing his light, 
he opened the shutter of his round window, and 
watched Nana’s shadow on the silk curtains. 

On the night of which we write, he was possessed by 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


143 


a mad fever of jealousy, when, on looking down, he 
saw another shadow than Nana’s on the curtain. 

For twenty years, in all the chances and changes of 
his career, in his prison days, and in his poverty, he had 
been able to keep the little dagger with its onyx handle 
— the same which he had once lifted to do this woman 
mortal harm — and always wore it about his neck 
fastened by a ribbon. 

The windows of Nana’s room were open on account 
of the heat. The light breeze occasionally lifted the 
curtain, and he could see that it was Virginie, who was 
with her mistress, and not a visitor as he had supposed. 
Finally, with her dressing gown loosely wrapped 
around her, Nana went to the window and leaned out, 
and then going back the lights were lowered. 

Luke waited until the house was still, and then, 
taking off his boots, crept down a long, dark corridor 
which led to the servants’ staircase, and, when he had 
gone down two flights, he went into the body of the 
house, through another passage which led into an ante- 
room of Nana’s private apartment, here he concealed 
himself behind a porture that fell to the ground. 
Virginie, when she left her mistress, locked a double 
door which opened on the principal staircase. 

Luke had hardly entered when Virginie came out. 
The heat was so extraordinary that she set these doors 
wide open ; in doing this she passed close to Luke, and 
in fact touched the ample folds of the old Aubusson 
tapestry by which he was concealed. Then he heard 
her pass down the corridor and knew that he was at 
last alone — in the same place where, twenty years 
before, he had implored Nana to give him back his 
child, and where she had refused to follow him and 
lead a life of honest toil. 

He could see from where he stood the corner of 
Nana’s bed, and the huge silver eagle, watching with 
outspread wings over her slumbers, was bathed in the 
soft light of an Eastern lamp. Nana, was oppressed by 
the heat — her hands were clasped above her head, and 
her whole attitude was one of inimitable grace. 


144 


nana’s daughter. 


Luke grasped the dagger tightly in his hands and 
crept toward the bed. He hesitated, struck by her 
beauty ; he intended to kill her and then himself. 

He raised the dagger — suddenly a hairy hand seized 
the wrist of the murderer with such vigor that the 
helpless fingers loosened their grasp on the dagger, 
which dropped on the carpet. Another hand was laid 
on the shoulder of the lackey so heavil}^ that he sank 
on his knees. 

These hands, or paAvs, were those of Yorick, a pet 
gorilla belonging to Nana, who kept the creature in 
her room to act, she said, as a watch-dog. The ani- 
mal’s instinct had taught him that his ‘mistress was in 
danger, and he had come to her assistance. 

When Luke was forced by the gorilla down upon his 
knees, he was just the height of the creature. He 
caught the dagger from the floor and struck the animal 
full in the heart, burying the blade up to the handle. 

The beast uttered a cry of agony and fell back. 
Nana awoke with^a start, and saw that her poor Yorick 
was dying. Luke himself had disappeared — she did 
not see him. As she leaped from the bed and ran to 
the assistance of Yorick, she saw the dagger still stick- 
ing in his breast, and had a vague recollection of hav- 
ing seen it before and even of having given it to some 
one. But to whom ? She could not remember. 

Some unknown enemy, some former admirer who had 
been dismissed, had succeeded in making his way into 
her room when she was asleep. 

She lighted a candle and summoned the Marquis. 


N A X A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


145 


CHAPTER XX. 
nana’s fete. 

I T was ten o’clock, and the first carriages were 
driving up to the door of the hotel, and the 
salons were beginning to fill. Supper was served 
in the conservatory. Six lackeys in blue and silver 
liveries stood by the tables, while four more took the 
men’s overcoats and the wraps of the ladies. 

Luke stood on the lower step of the marble stairs, 
and distributed the following programme ; 

PROGRAMME 

Of the Concert given on June 30th, 187 — . 

# 

II faut quune porte soit ouverte oufermSe, 
proverbe de Musset, jou4 par deux ar- 
tistes de la Comedie-FranQaise A. De Musset 

Valse de Mireille, chantde par Mine. X — 

de rOp^ra-Comique Gounod 

Serenade de Schubert, jouee sur le violon 
par M. R. — violon-solo de S. M. le roi 

de Portugal Schubert 

Polonaise de Chopin, jou^e par M. N — , 

pianiste de S. M. I’Empereur de Russie . Chopin 
Air de la Timhalle^ chantd par Mine Judic. Vasseur 
Duo du PrS-aux-Clerc8^ par Mine. X. — de 
rOpera-Comique, et M. Z. — du Thdatre 


Lyrique Herold 

Reverie de Schumann, pour violon Schumann 

Septuor de Beethoven, par tons les in- 
struments a cordes de I’orchestre Beethoven 

Le piano sera tenu par M. Y. — 

Xhe concert commenced at eleven. The four salons 


were by that time crowded with black coats starred 


146 


nana’s daughter. 


with decorations. The men predominated, the women 
being mainly artists from the various theatres, or 
stars in the world of gallantry who were led by curi- 
osity to see the interior of . a Hotel of which all the 
world were talking, and by the desire to make acquaint- 
ance with the journalists, artists and caricaturists who 
were sure to be there in quest of subjects for their pens 
and pencils. 

The Marquis d’Albigny stood in the first salon with 
Nana to receive the guests. The concert was held in 
the further room, which was reached either through 
the three salons or by the gallery. The Park, in 
which all the palms and orange trees and exotics from 
the conservatories had been arranged, was lighted by 
electricity. Marble statues gleamed against the green 
background, seats were arranged in shaded corners for 
the benefit of the romantic. 

The play and the concert were an immense success, 
and when the programme was finished the mistress of 
the house was entreated to sing. Nana never sang in 
public, although her voice was magnificent and well 
cultivated. Occasionally, at one of her supper parties, 
or after a dinner in her own house, she consented to 
oblige her friends. 

The Prince de Mulhausen pleaded on this occasion 
with true German obstinacy, but failed completely. 
She answered : 

“ I cannot grant you, my dear Prince, that which I 
have refused to my countrymen; the journals would 
abuse me frightfully were I to dream of such a thing.” 

She made this reply in a tone that was far less 
amiable than she usually employed when she enter- 
tained, for on these occasions Nana laid aside her 
abrupt haughtiness, was politeness itself, and treated 
her most unimportant guests with the greatest suavity. 

But this evening she was not quite herself; lier 
nerves were unstrung by the occurrences of the pre- 
vious night, and by the death of poor Yorick, her mute 
slave, struck through the heart by the dagger with the 
onyx handle, a relic of the Past which now returned 


nana’s daughter. 


147 


to her as a threat for the Future. She was also expect- 
ing the arrival of Stog, and was affected by a vague, 
superstitious fear which was new to her. 

Presently she heard the announcement: “Monsieur 
Stog, Postmaster General — ” 

Then followed two names unknown in the hStel, 
names of the two friends whom he had proposed to 
present to Nana. 

A shiver of anticipation ran around the salon — the 
story of the previous night was whispered behind the 
fans of the ladies. 

It was said that Stog had conceived for Nana a mad 
admiration, that he wished to kill d’Albigny and all 
other men who approached her, and that he had come 
to this entertainment merely to make a scene. 

Certain words that had been overheard between the 
Marquis and the Prince de Mulhausen at Mabille had 
given grounds to these reports. 

Stog went directly up to Nana. His expression was 
severe. His eyes were peculiarly bright, und there was 
a tinge of red high up on his cheeks. His white hair 
glittered in the light of the chandeliers. 

“ I understand,” he said to Nana, “ that you refuse to 
sing, that is to say you refuse to enchant us. If you 
persist in saying no, I shall think you are af raid of meT 

These words contained a threat which Nana under- 
stood. She rose, saying as she did so : 

“ To disabuse you of this idea I will sing, contrary 
to my usual habit.” 

Stog offered his arm, which she accepted, and they 
passed through the four salons to the piano. The ser- 
vants brought in chairs, and as soon as the guests who, 
were talking together in the corridors and in the 
salons, saw Nana going to the piano, there was a 
general “ hush ! hush ! ” 

Nana pointed out to the pianist who was to accom- 
pany her the famous air in the fifth act of U Africaiiie^ 
and proceeded to interpret with wonderful skill this 
admirable page, written by the greatest genius of 
musical and dramatic art. 

Q 


148 nana's daughter. 

When she uttered the cry at the end, the cry of 
heart-rending despair, so unearthly and yet so human, 

“ Adieu, Yasco, mon bien-airae, sois pardonnd I ” 

an outburst of enthusiasm filled the four salons. The 
marvellous beauty of the woman was heightened by 
the emotion she felt. Lightning flashes lit the green 
depths of her eyes. Her tawny hair, rolled in rich 
masses in a knot at the back of her head, seemed to 
emit light and surround her like a halo. 

She wore a diadem of marguerites composed of dia- 
monds on flexible stems, which shook with every move- 
ment of her head. Her ear-rings were two marguerites 
like those of her diadem, and on her bl ue satin slippers 
bloomed two more, which attracted attention to the 
slenderness of her feet. 

Her robe was of blue satin, cut very low and with an 
immense train, trimmed on the front breadth with 
twelve narrow ruffles of English point. 

Around her throat was a triple row of superb pearls. 
Her success as a woman and as an artist was complete. 
Nothing was lacking, not even the criticisms of three 
literary women who had grown old in poverty, and 
who were jealous of this splendor, which humiliated 
them. 

“ She has not absolute control over the notes in her 
middle I'egister,” said one of them sententiously. 

“A singer should always hold back her voice a little 
and not give out all she has,” said the other. 

“ I am told,” added a third, sharply, “ that this woman 
never gives anything.” 

The three literary women laughed maliciously at this. 

A rush to the supper table now took place, the men 
pushing with no little vigor and determination. 

Luke was carving a pheasant at a side table. He 
was assailed by pleading voices and outstretched hun- 
gry hands. Finally Mulhausen succeeded in obtaining 
a wing of the bird. He took refuge in a corner as 
proud of his triumph as of a German victory. 

Stog passed him. 


nana's daughter. 


149 


“ What have you done with Monsieur d’ Albigny ? ’’ 
he asked. 

“ Did you come here to insult the Marquis ? ” said 
Mulhausen ; “if you did, you will excuse me if I say 
that the moment is ill chosen.” 

“ Monsieur d’ Albigny cannot be insulted,” answered 
Stog. 

“ You mean, I suppose, that no one would dare insult 
him,” said d’ Albigny, w'ho had heard his name. 

Stog’s e3^es flashed fire. He snatched the plate 
which Mulhausen held in his hand, and threw it in the 
face of the Marquis. 

“ Very good ! ” said d’ Albigny coldly. “ I ask nothing 
better now than to kill j^ou ! ” 

“As soon as you please. I have my two seconds 
here.” 

The Marquis pointed to the Prince. 

“ And here is one of mine,” he said. 

“ And here is the other,” added another voice. 

The friend, to whom he had spoken the previous 
evening, now approached with his hat under his arm, 
and made a bow to the whole circle. 

“ Let us take two carriages and go to the Bois ; it 
is moonlight.” 

“No,” answered d’ Albigny; “the Salle d'Armes is 
close at hand.” 

The other men nodded a consent, and they all left 
the hotel. 

While this fray was going on, Nana was at the other 
end of the gallery, giving instructions to the leader 
of the orchestra. 

The crowd was so compact and the noise so great, 
that she heard nothing. In fact, those persons who 
were near the especial corner of the supper room where 
these men had stood, alone knew what had taken place. 

The younger women who meant to dance were 
already seated in the further salon. Chairs were placed 
in double rows around the four rooms. For five min- 
utes nothing was seen except black coats bending 
before white shoulders. 


150 


nana’s daughter. 


The ball began, and Nana was surrounded by men 
who implored the favor of a waltz. 

“ But I never dance,” she said. 

“ No, and you never sing,” said a young Englishman, 
laughing. 

“I will make an exception in your favor, my 
Lord,” Nana answered. 

She laid her hand lightly on his shoulder, and the 
two were soon lost in the whirlpool of lace, silk, and 
diamonds. 

After the waltz, the dancers hurried to the buffet, 
where they quaffed iced champagne from shallow 
glasses. 

The Park was full of people. The women, with 
their trains thrown over their arms on account of 
the dampness of the grass, wandered about with their 
cavaliers. The fountain sparkled in the moonlight, 
for it was sheltered by tall willow trees from the arti- 
ficial light, and from afar off rose the noise of the city, 
steady like the noise of the sea. 

Nana was looking for d’Albigny, for she felt a little 
uneasy, though she did not believe that any serious 
altercation could take place between two men, one of 
whom was indispensable to her, and the other interest- 
ing her strangely. 

She wanted to speak to d’Albigny and caution him 
to avoid a scene which might terminate in a tragedy. 

‘AVhere is Monsieur le Marquis?” she asked of 
Luke, whom she met in the hall. 

‘‘ I think, Madame, 1 saw him go down the steps to 
the Park,” was the man’s reply. 

“ Go look for him ; tell him that I must see him 
at once. I will wait here.” 

She took a seat in the balcony from which she could 
see the illuminated garden and grounds. The coup 
d' ceil was magnificent. Her lips moved with a smile 
of pride as she contemplated this almost royal fete 
paid for by her. She felt that she controlled the taste 
of her generation, of an entire race. She was the 
favorite of a century, not of a brief epoch. Suddenly 


nana's daughter. 


151 


her eyes fell on a lighted window in the extreme 
wing of the hotel. This window was that of the 
Salle d'Annes. Shadows passed to and fro upon the 
curtains. It seemed to her that she saw the shadow 
of two colossal swords on the ceiling. 

Then, suddenly, one of these swords passed the cur- 
tains in a straight black line, and struck a shadow 
which fell backward. 

“ The die is cast ! ” she murmured, as she rose. 

Gay, laughing couplps were coming up the double 
flight of steps leading from the Park. Long trains 
floated over the rose-colored marble. Shapely shoul- 
ders had all the whiteness of marble under the light 
which poured from the crystal chandelier. In the 
vestibule Nana met the Rajah whom she had ruined 
in a week. He had returned from Benares with a new 
fortune and new diamonds, drawn from Asia b}^ the 
recollection of Nana. She took his arm, and, without 
any salutation, said simply : 

“ Come — I expected you — I was thinking of you.” 

She drew him into the card-room. 

“You know. Prince,” she added with a laugh, “you 
know that I often lose, but I never pay.” 

In his smile was the sadness of a fatalist as he mur- 
mured : 

“I came back because your beauty called me, 
because your serpent eyes fascinated me, and because 
the women of my own land do not interest me. I 
came back that you might make me your slave.” 

He seated himself at a table opposite her. The 
room was hung with myrtle-green velvet. Men who 
were still young but almost ail bald were seated before 
the different tables. • 

The clink of gold was the only noise in the room, 
for every voice spoke in whispers. 

The joyous music from the ball room came faintly 
through the double doors. 

Nana lost the first game. 

“ I play for your smiles to-night,” said the Rajah. 
“No—’’ 


152 


nana’s daughter. 


“ And why ? ” 

“ Because they belong to some one else.” 

“ And to whom ? ” 

“To a man who loves me better than you do, 
Prince.” 

“That is impossible.” 

“It is true.” 

“ Prove it. Where is he ? ” 

“He is playing a more serious game than this, for 
my sake.” 

“ And for what stakes ? ” 

“His blood!” 

“Very well. Will you stake your smiles against my 
life?” 

Nana nodded as she dealt the cards. 

The Prince cut and the game began. 

Nana lost again. 

The Rajah’s eyes flashed with joy. 

She laughed aloud. 

“ You know I warned you,” she said. 

“Warned me of what?” he asked, his lips turning 
white. 

“ That I never pay when I lose.” 

“ Then I will pay for you. To-morrow, when the 
admirer whom you prefer leaves your house, I will kill 
him ! ” 

She was a little moved by his energy, and became 
more acquiescent. 

“No,” she said, “I will pay, but it must be when I 
please. Shall I give you a note at sixty days ? ” 

“You jest at everything,” said the Rajah, leaving 
his chair and coming round to the side of the table 
where she sat. > 

Luke entered at this moment. 

“ Where is the Marquis?” asked Nana. 

“ I have not been able to find him, Madame, but I 
heard on the stairs that he and Monsieur Stog had 
fought a duel.” 

“Is he wounded?” 

“ He is dead, Madame.” 


NANAIS DAUGHTER. 


153 


“ Dead ! ” 

“ If he had not died to-night, I should have killed 
him to-morrow,” said the Rajah calmly.” 

“ You ! ” 

“Yes, I.” 

She seized the Rajah by the arm and shook him 
violently. 

“I believe you killed Yorick!” she cried. 

Luke became very white, but the Rajah, not under- 
standing, made no reply. 

Nana accepted this silence as a confession. 

She thrust aside the table, and as she rushed toward 
the smoking-room, which led to the apartments of the 
Marquis, she exclaimed to the Eastern Prince : 

“ Never appear in my presence again ! ” 

He rose and went out with the imperturbability of a 
martyr — his features as set as if they had been of bronze. 

Luke was waiting for him at the head of the stairs, 
and at once accosted him. 

“There is some one here who will serve you, 
Prince.” 

“ And who is that ? Yourself? ” 

“ Yes!” 

“Will you avenge me?” 

“ Yes, and myself at the same time.” 

“Very well! Take this poison for her, and this 
jewel for yourself.” 

He gave him a small capsule and a ring ornamented 
with a huge diamond. 

“ Keep the jewel. Prince ; I only want the poison,” 
said the lackey. 

“ I never take back what I have given,” said the 
Indian, with Oriental, sternness. 

And throwing the diamond on the marble, he wrapped 
his mantle of white cashmere about him, and slowly 
descended the stairs. 


154 


NANA's DAUGliTLK. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A DUEL IS FOUGHT. 

N ana hurried to the chamber occupied by d’Al- 
bigny. As she reached it, the Aubusson portiere 
was lifted, and the Marquis appeared. 

“ It is done ! ” he said. 

“Stog is dead?” cried Nana. 

“ Probably — as you see me alive.” 

“ So much the better.” 

“ For me, at all events.” 

“For us both. Marquis. And Mulhausen, where 
is he ? ” 

“ Looking for you.” 

“Well, tell me what has taken place. Tell me 
everything.” 

“Willingly; only let us go back to the ball room. 
We should be seen there as soon as possible. Take 
my arm.” 

As this worthy pair entered, the gayety of the ball 
room was at its height. The women were very coquet- 
tish, being inspired by the magnificence around them ; 
the men, a little dignified and reserved, responded to 
them with politeness. Several elderly women proba- 
bly the mothers of the actresses present, sat on the 
sofas against the wall, talking together. Some of 
them were alarmingly stout, others wrinkled by age 
like parchment; some of them mute and serious, others 
merry and polite. 

They looked at the women who were dancing — 
those graceful forms and dainty feet advancing and 
receding under those floating skirts were as a vision of 
their vanished youth. And all these mothers, stout or 
thin — all these ghosts of the Past reduced to the role 
of caryatides in ball rooms frequented by their daugh- 
ters — experienced a personal joy, a singular sentiment 


nana’s daughter. 


155 


of triumph, when they beheld their daughters ap- 
proached with timid respect by the young men who 
asked them to dance. 

Nana went to the' buffet, after passing through the 
four salons, with her arm still in that of d’Albigny. 

As she ate an ice, she said to him : 

“ Now tell me the story of the duel.” 

“It is not a long one, Nana. Stog threw a plate in 
my face. This plate he snatched from Mulhausen, who, 
with true Germanic phlegm, went on eating the wing 
of a pheasant, while Stog and I exchanged some pretty 
fierce words. The whole affair was prearranged, we 
each had our seconds at hand, and we went at once to 
the Salle d' Armes. One of my adversary’s seconds 
went for the swords, which were in his carriage, and we 
drew lots to decide whether mine or these should be 
used. Stog won the day. Mulhausen measured them ; 
they were of equal length. We took our places — it is 
difficult for me to describe what took place. Stog was 
really wonderful ; he showed great powers of endurance 
and strong wrists, but he was not in practice, for he had 
been too busy a man to spend many hours of the day 
in a Salle d' Armen. He lifted his arm too high, and I 
made a lunge. My thrust was fatal; his seconds 
caught him as he fell, I believe — I am not sure, how- 
ever, for I instantly hurried away to reassure you.” 

Nana and d’Albigny entered the card room as soon 
as she had heard this story. The Prince de Mulhausen 
was still looking for Nana. 

He was laughing loudly, and as Nana entered he was 
just saying : 

“ Germany has won a great victory to-night, shanks to 
d’Albigny. France counts a man less. Poor France ! It 
is very unfortunate, for she has not many men like Stog.” 

As he spoke the German rubbed his much-ringed 
hands together. 

When he saw Nana he went up to her, and, taking 
both her hands, kissed them, as he said in a low voice ; 

“ I congratulate you, my dear, tliat you are relieved 
of a most inconvenient and troublesome admirer.” 


156 


N ana’s daughter. 

“ Stog was never my admirer,” answered Nana dis- 
dainfully. 

“ Of your Platonic adorer, then,” answered the 
Prince. “ Besides, if d’Albigny had not killed him, I 
was there, and — ” 

“Mulhausen has not yet digested his pheasant,” 
interrupted d’Albigny. 

“ Stog and I had a little account to settle between 
ourselves,” replied the German haughtily. 

“ I am here,” said a voice behind the portiere of the 
smoking-room. 

The Prince turned pale. 

The portiere was lifted, and Stog appeared supported 
by his two seconds. 

“ Prince ! ” he said, “ I wish to pay my debts — before 
I die — pistols — we can — ” 

“ I cannot fight with you,” stammered Mulhausen ; 
“ it would be the basest cowardice.” 

“ Of which you were guilty, sir, just now, when you 
spoke of me, whom you believed to be dead, as you 
did. You dare not look me in the face ! ’ 

“ I respect your condition, sir.” 

Stog shook off his seconds, and advanced to a table, 
against which he supported himself. He was silent for 
a moment, and then said slow'ly: 

“ Listen to me, all of you who are here. These are 
my last words ! I had a famil}^, my duty was to live 
for them ; but I was weak enough to love this woman ! ” 
and he extended his arm toward Nana. “I was ready 
to lose my soul for her sake ! I was ready to abandon 
those who are dependent upon me — to betray my public 
duties! But Death interposed to save me. Leave 
this wretched place, young men! This house is a 
gilded snare! This woman and this man are alike — ” 

He was interrupted by the blood rising in his throat 
and choking him. 

He slipped from the hands which caught him, and fell 
upon the table, where tlie cards were still scattered. 

“ Take me away ! ” he gasped. ‘H cannot die in this 
bouse ! ” 


nana’s daughter. 


157 


His friends lifted him. 

Suddenly he uttered a cry : 

“ My wife ! My children ! Mercy ! ’’ 

These were his last words. He fell dead into the 
arms of his seconds. 

The card-room was presently as deserted as if the 
players had followed the advice of the dying man. 

.r The horror of the women wdien they heard what had 
happened caused them all to take fliglit. It was whis- 
pered among the men that d’Albigny had taken an 
unfair advantage of his adversary. 

The Marquis was left alone with Nana in the card- 
room, the carpet of which was strewn with gold and 
spotted with blood. Several of the men-servants were 
huddled together in one corner, while Luke, as severe 
and correct in his appearance as usual, stood in the 
doorway waiting for Madame’s orders. 

Nana went through the smoking-room to her boudoir. 
Luke, left alone in the card-room, stooped to pick up 
the gold pieces. 

“ 1 am not the only one, it seems, who robs and steals 
here,” he murmured. 

It was not long before the last guest had departed — 
Mulhausen went before Stog died. And then Luke 
went up to his attic room. Looking from the window, 
he saw the shadows on Nana’s curtain. He stretched 
one of his thin arms toward them. 

“Why does not one of these wretches kill the 
other ? ” he murmured. “ If I could only see that, 
I should die happy ! ” 

And he lifted his haggard eyes to the starry skies, 
with a despairing gesture. 


158 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XXIL 


MARGOT, THE UNFORTUNATE. 

IFE went on in the usual fashion , at the Naviels’. 



JLi The days were at their longest. Andr^e rose at 
five O’clock, as did Madame Naviel and her husband. 
The workwomen, whom Andrde lodged in her house, 
came down at six o’clock, and after their breakfast 
went to the atelier. 

All these young girlB, to whom Mademoiselle was 
very kind, ate at the one table and participated in all 
their home comforts. 

About this time Andrde had a recruit from among 
her former companions in La Rue Paillardin. 

Mademoiselle, about sunset one day, went with her 
parents and Lucien to the Parc Monceaux. A golden 
light filtered through the tall chestnut trees and touched 
the spray of the fountain ; oblique shadows fell from 
the lofty Hotels overlooking the Park. Birds were 
twittering among the trees, and there was a loud cooing 
of pigeons from above. As it grew darker, veiled 
women moved slowly along the avenues, and low whis- 
pers were heard from the benches under the trees. The 
blackbirds became silent ; bats flew from tree to tree 
across the pale blue sky. 

A young woman whose face was covered with a 
green veil walked past the Naviels again and again. 
Each time she passed Andree she seemed to hesitate, 
and then hurried on again. 

Lucien was the first to notice this peculiarity. 

“It is very odd,” he said to Andree; “one would 
think that woman wished to speak to you, but did not 
dare do so.” 

“ If she comes back again, ’’answered the young girl, 
“ ask her what she wants.” 

It was ten minutes before she reappeared. 


nana’s daughter. 


159 


The gas under the polished globes of the lamps 
was being lighted, when Lucien again saw the same 
mysterious figure opposite. 

“ There she is ! ” he said. “ If she looks at you 
again, I shall speak to her.” 

This time the unknown came much nearer the bench 
on which they were all sitting. 

“ Do you wish to speak to us ? ” asked Lucien. 

The woman stopped, and said in a husky voice : 

“ Yes.” 

What is it ? ” asked Andr^e. 

“I wish to thank you for having defended an unfor- 
tunate creature like myself on the day of the Review.” 

“Margot! Can this be you? My poor girl! how 
low you have fallen ! ” 

“ I cannot help it, Mademoiselle ; I could not obtain 
employment.” 

“ Have you really tried ? ” 

“ Yes, I have tried ; but as soon as it was found out 
who I was, I was dismissed. Then, too, Jules did 
not wish me to work, for I did not make enough 
money — he would not lift a finger. You know Jules, 
the former servant at Paillardin’s. But he has been 
very cruel to me, beaten me more than once, and 
some time, instead of going back to the attic where 
he is, I shall throw myself over the bridge on the rail- 
road track, a train will pass over me, and there will 
be no more of Margot. 1 had a terrible time the day of 
the Review.” 

“ And what was the trouble then ? ” 

“ 1 had spoken to a young man, that was all. One 
of the four officers coaxed the others to let me go — ” 

“ The tall one, I suppose ? ” 

“No, indeed; he hates us, but the others were not 
so hard.” 

“ Margot, do you really wish to lead a different life ? ” 

“ I wish to do so, but I am not sure of myself.” 

“ Do you wish to make another effort? ” 

“ Indeed, I do. Mademoiselle.” 

“ Well, then, come and live under our roof. You will 


160 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


eat with us, and need not set your foot out of doors 
for some time.” 

“I should like that — but suppose Jules should come 
for me ? ” 

“ He will take care not to come when I am home,” 
said Naviel. 

“ He has no right to enter our house, even if you are 
away,” added Andree. 

“But,” said Lucien, “she must take all her belong- 
ings from where she has been living. How will she 
manage that ? ” 

“I can’t get them. Jules would surely kill me. 
Besides, I owe money there.” 

“ How much do you owe ? ” 

“ Five francs for to-day and the same sum for 
to-morrow. I pay by the day, and in advance.” 

“Well, we will advance you that on your month.” 

“ But Jules will kill me, I tell you, if I go there alone.” 

“We will go with you,” said Monsieur Naviel, 
“ Lucien and myself.” 

“That will not do, sir, but if Madame and Made- 
moiselle went it would make it all right — otherwise, 
Jules would think I was not telling the truth.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” Lucien observed, “ but it seems 
to me that it is not a place where two respectable 
women ought to go.” 

“ 1 am not afraid,” Andree answered. “ You will 
be with me, and my father also. Ah ! Lucien, help me 
to do a kindly act ! ” 

Margot sobbed out her gratitude at Andrde’s knees. 

“You do not know how grateful I will be! I 
was guilty of a most villanous act toward you, and 
I can never forgive myself. Help me to rise from the 
mire in which 1 lie. Alas I what can a poor girl do 
alone against the whole world? We drink to dull our 
sorrows, absinthe, brandy, everything, and this soon 
finishes us.” 

“ Come, Margot,” said Andree, “ where do you live ? ” 

“Kue de Levis.” 

All the family rose from the bench. Lucien, who 


N A N A ’ S D A U G 11 T E 11 . 


10 ] 


had come that evening without his mother, offered his 
arm to his fiancSe. The stars were shining, and the air 
was sweet with the breath of flowers. 

When the Naviel family reached the Rue de Ldvis, 
Margot stopped at a narrow door. This door led into 
a paved alley, which was also a gutter, through which 
ran dirty water. 

In the rear was a square courtyard, in the corner of 
which a worm-eaten staircase led to the first floor of a 
hideous structure. 

“We must not all go up together,” said Margot to 
Naviel, “ the stairs are not strong.” 

“Are you afraid? ” asked Andree. 

“ I am afraid of being beaten,” the woman answered. 

“ Then we will go with you,” said Andrde. 

“Let me pass,” interposed Monsieur Naviel. He 
and Lucien went first, and were followed at some little 
distance by the two women. 

A frightful odor rose from the muddy courtyard. The 
house in the rear, where Margot had a room, had only 
two stories, while the one in front had five. Long 
gutters spread across and down the leprous walls like 
a gigantic vine, and burst into flowers at the windows 
in each passage-way in large calyxes of zinc. 

The chimiiey of a manufactory near by flamed all 
night like a gigantic candle, and threw a yellow light 
on the wall of the large house, where the shadow of 
the smaller one darkened the lower floor. 

The rez-de-cliamsie was occupied as a storehouse for 
hand-carts, which the concierge let by the hour to the 
fruit-women of the vicinity, who at dawn went to 
make their purchases at the Central Markets. 

At the top of the stairs, up which Margot led the 
way, there was a gallery outside, the floor of which 
trembled in a treacherous manner; this was the only 
issue from the bedrooms — of which Margot’s was the 
last. There was no light in the window. 

“There is no one there,” said Andree. 

“ He may have gone to bed,” whispered Margot, as 
she went in. 


1G2 


NANAS DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

PLUCK AND DETERMINATION. 

QEVERAL moments elapsed. Margot could not find 
O the matches. She felt for them with trembling 
fingers, but, careful as she was, she knocked a pipe 
from the mantel, which, falling on the floor, was broken 
to pieces. 

Margot sighed deeply, and at last succeeded in 
finding two or three matches in the bottom of a soap 
dish, and snatching the brass candlestick she carried it 
to the window, and lighted the half inch of candle 
remaining in it. Then her companions looked in. 
The floor was of brick. At the end of the room was an 
iron bed, still unmade. A red carpet was spread by 
the side of this uninviting couch. On the mantel, in 
front of a fly-spotted mirror, was a bottle half filled 
with brandy, by the side of which was a glass appa- 
rently just emptied. 

A trunk stood open near the chimney. At the foot 
of the bed was a small closet, lighted by a pane of 
glass in the door. 

Several old skirts hung against the wall. Margot 
went up to this closet, and looked in. A mattress was 
spread on the -floor — it was there that Jules slept. 

He was not there now, and Margot began hastily to 
get her things together before his return. She thrust 
the skirts into the trunk, and took from a drawer in 
the bureau, a few articles of underclothing, and from 
another a tooth brush, a fan, a comb, and a pair of 
gloves, all of which she tossed into her trunk, which 
she then fastened with a padlock, the key of which she 
put in her pocket. 

“Now, let us go,” she said. 

“ One moment,” observed Monsieur Naviel ; “ is the 
room taken in your name ? ” 


nana’s daughter. 


163 


“ I don’t understand.” 

“ Do you pay the rent ? ” 

“I should say so. Jules does nothing. Good 
Heavens ! what will he say when he knows I have 
gone? But, wait here a moment, I want to ask the 
concierge if she will allow her son to take my trunk. 
Is it far to your house. Mademoiselle ? ” 

“ No. Only to the Square des BatignollesJ*^ 

“ If you require any one, I am here,” said a voice 
behind them. 

Margot became very pale. 

“It is Jules,” she said, under her breath. 

A man stood in the doorway. He wore breeches of 
coarse white linen, a shirt tied around his waist by a 
scarf of blue flannel, and around his throat a silk 
handkerchief knotted with studied negligence. On his 
head was a smoking-cap, and on his feet red slippers. 
He came forward slowly, with his hands in his pockets, 
and addressing Margot : 

“I told you,” he said, “that if at any time you 
wanted to return from whence you came, that is to the 
House of Correction, from which I was foolish enough 
to take you, I would carry your trunk for you, other- 
wise your trunk would remain here, and you with it.” 

“ But all that is in it belongs to me,” said Margot. 

“Nothing belongs to you, my girl, do you know 
that? I was accepted as 3^our security at the Pre- 
fecture, as you well know, and it is owing to me that 
you are not in the House of Correction to-day. You 
must remain here.” 

“It strikes me that this woman is free to choose 
between the life she lives and the honorable existence 
which we offer her.” 

“She is not free.” 

“ That is preposterous.” 

“I will let 3^ou see that you are mistaken. Let her 
try to get away — that is all ! ” 

“You will not strike her while we are here, my man.” 

“Neither your wife, nor your daughter, nor even 
this tall fellow will prevent me.” 

10 


164 


NANA'S DAUGHTER. 


— none of them will prevent you. I will do 
that by myself.” 

“ Well ! we will see. In the first place, you are all 
in my room ; do you understand that ? ” 

“ No, Monsieur, we are in this woman’s room ; it is 
taken in her name.” 

“ That is false.” 

“ She says so.” 

“ Then she lies.” 

“ But is it not she who pays?” 

“Most certainly.” 

“ Well, then—” 

“Ah! you do not believe me. Wait, and I will call 
the concierge, ” 

He went out on the gallery, and called over the rail- 
ing : “ Holloa, Mother Grappenet I ” 

“Coming — coming — Monsieur Jules!” grunted an 
oily voice from below. 

Presently, the stairs creaked under a heavy weight, 
and in a moment a very stout woman entered. 

Mother Grappenet wore a black skirt covered with 
grease spots, and a pelerine equally shabby and dirty, 
shiny and worn. A cap once white had long strings, 
the ends of which had been dipped in a bowl of coffee. 
Her small eyes disappeared under a ridge of fat. She 
wore her scanty gray hair in bands — two tiny curls 
were glued to her temples. 

Her upper lip was covered with a moustache, and on 
her chin was a large mole from which grew three long 
hairs. Her fat, short hands were stained with the snuff 
which she continually used. 

“What can I do for you, my boy?” she asked. 

“These people. Mother Grappenet, wish to take 
away this woman’s effects.” 

“ Without giving me notice? Without paying me?” 

“Who should pay you, Madame?” asked Lucien. 

“Monsieur Jules, of course.” 

“ Monsieur Jules has the money in his pocket, but he 
will not pay, therefore Madame’s things cannot be taken 
away,” said the man, in a tone of insolent triumph. 


nana's daughter. 


165 


“Nevertheless, they will be taken,” Monsieur Naviel 
replied. 

“And how will you manage that?” snapped the 
concierge, 

“ paying you — ” 

“ Yes, by paying me a week in advance at five francs 
per day — which comes to thirty francs.” 

“Excuse the question, Madame,” observed Lucien, 
“ but was this room taken by the week or the day ? ” 

“ By the week, sir.” 

“ It is false ! ” cried Margot. “ I have my last receipt ; 
here it is.” 

J ules snatched at the paper to destroy it, but Naviel 
pushed his arm aside. 

Andrde took the receipt. 

“ It is for five francs, and dated yesterday,” she said. 
“ You owe her no more than that. Here are your five 
francs, Madame.” 

“ I accept nothing,” cried the old woman, “ and the 
trunk shall not go out of here ! ” 

“Nor the woman either ! ” grumbled Jules. 

“Now,” said Lucien to Jules, “you will leave this 
room — ” 

“ I ! and by what right do you give this order ? ” 

“ It should be very plain to you : this room is let by 
the day, and is paid for in advance. Now as no one 
here has paid for it, it is not let ; I therefore engage it. 
Here are your five francs, Madame.” 

Madame Grappenet took the money. 

“That is so,” she said to Jules. “You cannot pre- 
vent me from letting my room.” 

“ But I have had it for some time.” 

“Yes, and paid for it with Madame’s money, and as 
Madame is going away, why, of course — ” 

“But at all events, I have the money to pay you 
for to-day ; here it is.” 

“ Excuse me,” Lucien said, “ I engaged it first, and 
I double the price ; here is another five franc piece.” 

This was too much for the woman ; she did not hesi- 
tate any longer, but at once threw J ules over. 


166 


nana’s daughter. 


“No, my lad, you must go elsewhere,” she said, as 
she refunded the money. 

“ Clear out of here, all of you ! ” cried the man, 
utterly exasperated. “ Make haste, or there will be 
blood shed ! ” With a rapid movement he drew a 
knife from his belt. The concierge fled instantly. 

Monsieur Naviel took three steps forward, and the 
man leaped upon him with the knife uplifted. Madame 
Naviel threw herself between them and was wounded 
in the arm. 

Andree uttered a cry of anguish. The engineer 
strove to snatch the knife from the wretch. The sight 
of the blood on his wife’s sleeve infuriated him, and he 
felled the aggressor to the ground. 

“ Now, give me that knife,” he said in a loud voice, 
“ or I will pitch you over that railing into the court- 
yard below ! ” 

Jules grasped the knife tighter and with the hand 
that was free tried to trip up his assailant, but Naviel 
saw what he was doing and soon stopped it by press- 
ing one foot on the man’s breast. Jules still held 
the knife. The engineer pushed his wrist against the 
glass of the closet door, the glass broke and the man’s 
wrist was severely cut. He uttered a sharp cry, his 
teeth chattered, and he fainted. The knife fell on the 
floor. 

At this moment several voices were heard below 
in the alley which led to the street. 

“ It is the police,” cried Margot, “ I recognize their 
voices.” 

Up the stairs came the heavy footsteps of four men 
in uniform. Naviel had just tied his handkerchief 
around his wife’s arm to stop the blood. 

Margot threw water in the face of the wounded man, 
who soon regained consciousness. 

“It is you,” said one of the men, “who is making 
all this uproar again, is it?” 

“No, it is not I, it is Jules, who wishes to prevent 
me from working.^’ 

“ Yes, that is true enough,” the concierge said, who 


nana’s daughter. 


167 


had returned to the fray when protected by the police. 
“Yes, the room is paid for, but Monsieur Jules would 
not allow her to go away, and even attacked Monsieur.” 

“You confouirded old fool!” muttered Jules. 

“Explain all this to us,” said one of the police to 
Monsieur Naviel. “ Why are you here and what do 
you want of this woman ? ” 

Monsieur Naviel related the facts, which the man 
proceeded to write down. He asked the address of all 
those present, and then concluded : “ There has been 
an attack in this house. We must take this woman to 
the station. If you come to-morrow to claim her, the 
Commissioner will decide ; if you do not come, she will 
be sent to the D^pot, and then to Saint-Lazare, for this 
sort of thing must be put an end to.” 

Margot began to speak — 

“Not a word I Make no resistance,” counselled 
Naviel. “ Unjust as the law seems, it must be obeyed. 
I will see you to-morrow. Your effects shall be taken 
to my house.” 

The police went away taking Margot, who was meek 
and resigned, and pushing Jules before them, who 
swore like a trooper. 

Margot was not utterly discouraged, for in the 
depths of her soul a hope had been awakened by the 
promise of work — and work purifies! 

The next day Monsieur Naviel went for Margot and 
took her home with him. 


168 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

DON GIOVANNI. 

N AXA was dressing for the opera, which was Bon 
Giovanni. 

D’Albigny, as he drew on his gloves, examined her 
with the air of a connoisseur. Her coiffure of black 
pearls in the blond ripples of her hair was very effective. 

Virginie had gone, as Madame had given her the 
evening. 

Suddenly the Marquis laughed aloud. 

“ Oh ! oh ! Nana, what do 1 see ? A bad sign ! ” 
“Well! what is it?” she asked, impatiently. 

“ The beginning of the end, my dear.” 

Her color faded. 

“ A silver hair in your golden tresses, Nana.” 
“Pshaw, it is you who are growing old. Marquis. 
Your sight is failing.” 

He leaned toward her, pulled out a hair, and showed 
it to her. 

“You are right,” sighed Nana, “we must play our 
cards — ” 

“And with greater caution than ever. Above all, 
indulge in no weakness for any one.” 

“ Have you suspected me of any weakness of the 
heart since you have been aquainted with me? If so, I 
should like to kimw the name of the happy mortal.” 

“ The name is Stog.” 

“ He never was my lover.” 

“ So much the better for you, my dear. What would 
you have got out of Stog? Such birds have not feath- 
ers enough for you, my dear.” 

“Pshaw! It was a mere caprice which would not 
have lasted long.” 

“At twenty you had a right to caprices,” said d’Al- 
bigny, “but nowadays you have no time for follies. I 


nana’s daughter. 


169 


am your faithful ally, but on one condition, that you 
will be my instrument, an instrument of flagellation 
for the whole human race. I have not dragged my 
title through the mire, I have not identified myself 
with you to assist now in romantic idyls. You must 
serve me in something as I have served you in many 
things. I ask you now one, what you meant to do 
with Stog ? Did you intend^ to ask him to give you 
the position of Postmistress in some country town ? 
I should have liked to see you in the exercise of your 
functions. Ah! Nana you threw away a splendid 
Future ! ” 

“I should have made him very useful. I should 
have found positions for hundreds of creatures who 
have been deserted by my admirers. Have you as 
much as that to offer, d’Albigny, and are you not more 
of a burden on me than I am on you? Come now, 
which of us ought to feel most contempt for the other? 
Is it the woman or the Marquis ? ” 

“ Bravo ! Nana ! Bravo ! How I admire you ! You 
have a sharp tongue, and are not afraid to use it. You 
have wit, too. Exercise it, my dear, it keeps you 
young. It is only the young who have the right to be 
foolish.” 

“Do you think I care for one single white hair. 
If I need money, I can sell my hotel and live on the 
proceeds. If poverty and old age threaten me, I shall 
not live to see them. So much the worse for my cred- 
itors ! for my jewels, my furniture, my stables, and 
myself — I will set on fire ! Yes, I will burn ray hotel 
during a fete of which all Paris will talk. What do 
you say to that idea ? ” 

“ Nothing, my dear, except that I advise you to post- 
pone your incendiarism as late as possible.” 

“ Of course.” 

“Well, listen to me now. Your hotel is worth ten 
million ; your pictures, your jewels, your works of art 
come to four million more. You have a capital of six 
million, therefore, lying idle. Your investments do not 
amount to a miliiou — that is to say they give you only 


170 


NANA'S DAUGHTER. 


an income of one hundred thousand francs, a sum 
which is altogether insufficient to feed and pay your 
servants, to keep up your stables, your park, your h8tel, 
and your — Marquis ! What remains to you for your 
table, your toilette, etc.? Nothing, absolutely nothing. 
It is essential, therefore, that you should find some 
means of augmenting your income. At present we 
have two resources — one, the Rajah, whom you put 
out of doors on the occasion of your fete, and why? 
He is fascinated by your beauty, he is jealous of me, 
and yet I advise you to be reconciledto him.” 

“ And the other resour<je, what is that ? ” 

“ Only that you should begin by separating your 
daughter from the young man she wishes to marry. 
We should find him very much in our way. The first 
thing, therefore, is to prevent this marriage, and when- 
ever you say the word the thing is done. You may 
found a dynasty, if you will. There are plenty of 
adventurers, whose merits are far below yours, whose 
power has become hereditary, and I will be the herald 
of your presumptive throne. I will proclaim your 
daughter as your successor, and all the world will hail 
her with acclamations ! ” 

“ Yes, they will shout ‘The Queen is dead! Long 
live the Queen!’ Thanks, my dear. I am not quite 
ready to be buried yet. 1 am still beautiful, and I 
prefer to be Queen.” 

“ Queen-mother, then ; so be it.” 

Nana’s violent temper here broke loose. She revolted 
against this cold raillery. 

“ Leave this room. Marquis ! Leave my house ! ” 
she cried. “ I dismiss you as I would a lackey ! ” 

“ Then you must give me a week’s notice, Madame,” 
said the Marquis, whose sang froid was proof against 
anything she could say to him. 

The storm of wounded pride raging in the woman’s 
head was calmed by this cold reply. 

“Upon my word!” she said, “you are stronger than 
I — I will do whatever you say.” 

“Remember, I speak in your interest entirely, Nana. 


nana’s daughter. 


171 


Take your Andree home. Her beauty will adorn your 
fetes. She will attract new faces and full purses, and 
we will manage these gentlemen as we choose. By the 
way, I met your Rajah to-day at the Bois. He thinks 
of no one but you. He was driving in an open car- 
riage alone, and looked ill — his eyes were sunken 
and his face drawn. I stopped him.” 

“ You stopped him, Marquis I Are you mad — he 
wants to kill you.” 

“ Pshaw ! I am not so easily killed. Can you guess 
what he asked me ? ” 

“No; goon.” 

“ He asked if you were dead.” 

“What a strange creature he is ! ” 

“ And I asked him to come and sup with you to-night 
after the opera.” 

“ You were very wise, d’Albigny. They say he is 
rolling in money, just now.” 

“ Which you will take possession of. Offer him your 
h6tel. Talk as if you were willing to divide with him, 
and he will divide with you.” 

At this moment Luke came to announce that 
Madame’s coupe was at the door. 

“ Be sure that supper is ready at twelve o’clock,” 
said Nana to the lackey. “ You are coming back with 
me, d’Albigny, are you not?” 

“Not this evening. I will take you to the loge, 
where the Rajah will join you, and then I must go to 
the club for the night.” 

“Then set the table for two,” Nana continued, 
addressing Luke. 

The servant bowed silently, and watched Nana and 
the Marquis as they descended the stairs. 

The Boulevards were brilliantly lighted. The chairs 
outside the caf^s were arranged in double rows, for the 
night was charming. 

JD’Albigny had matched the horse remaining out of 
the four, and Nana now drove only two. She had taken 
an economical freak within the last few days, and had 
only one footman. D’Albigny had pointed out to her 


172 


NANA'S DAUGHTER. 


that her extravagance could not continue, and Nana 
was retrenching. 

Paris at this hour was very fascinating to the 
woman who had grown up and developed amid its 
excitement, and Nana lay back in her carriage watch- 
ing cafe after caf^ which they passed. The doors were 
wide open and the light streaming out on the sidewalk ; 
women were flitting past, and the waiters within, their 
white aprons tied tightly around their waists, freshly 
shaven, and their hair crimped on hot irons, were 
hurrying around the tables with marvellous dexterity, 
holding on three fingers, traj-s of drinks. 

When the coup^ stopped in front of the Opera 
House, Nana took the arm of the Marquis, and as- 
cended the steps in silence. In the vestibule they met 
the Rajah. 

“ Behold your servant ! ” was his salutation. 

“ An emancipated one,” she replied. 

“ Who asks for his chains again.” 

“With the hope of revolting and commanding in his 
turn ! ” 

- “ With the hope of attaching the Queen of his heart 
to his destiny.” 

When she reached her loge, Nana dismissed d’Al- 
bigny, who said to her softly: “I abandon you to your 
fate!” 

Then, bowing to the Prince, he departed. 

The house was crowded. Every one of any impor- 
tance then in Paris was present. The women were in 
full dress, and snowy shoulders in the loges glittered 
like marble under the shower of light from above, 
which fell too on shining hair, where a cluster of roses 
bloomed or a single white camelia. Jewels, too, spar- 
kled on every side. Heavy perfumes mingled with the 
odor of fre^h flowers in the atmosphere, even at that 
early hour very oppressive. 

A buzz of voices and an occasional silvery laugh rose 
to the high ceiling. 

At last the leader of the orchestra raised his baton, 
and the overture began. 


nana's daughter. 


173 


The Indian Prince was seated close to Nana, so close 
that he was able to touch her hand with his, which 
trembled nervously. 

He did not hear one note of the first act of Don Gio- 
vanni, He did not see the splendor of the house. He 
was conscious only of the fact that he was near this 
woman who had inspired him with a mad and fatal 
admiration. He forgot, moreover, that he had given 
Luke poison with which to strike her dead. 

But Luke had not forgotten it, and at this very 
moment had gone to his attic to procure the capsule. 

“ I have no heart for anything,” he said to himself, 
“ so long as she lives. This accursed madness is slowly 
killing me ; I must end it all. And now. Prince, to 
obey you ! ” 


174 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A DAINTY SUPPER. 

^HEN we two are to sup alone, are we ? ” asked 

JL the Indian, when the curtain fell at the end of 
the first act. 

“ Entirely alone. Prince.” 

“And you will never dismiss me again ?” 

“Never. I wish you to esteem me always.” 

“If you will care for me Nana, my life will be a 
heaven in which your eyes will be the stars. The men 
of this land know nothing of adoration, adoration as we, 
the children of the sun, understand such. What do 
these songs of love which we hear amount to ? Your 
poetry and your music are as cold as 3^our skies. Your 
poets are not to be compared to ours. Twenty thou- 
sand years have elapsed, and we still recite the words 
they wrote with their blood in our books.” 

“ But are you read}^ to sacrifice everything for me ? 
My h6tel is yours, I am ready to share all with you — ” 

“ And d’ Albigny, what of him ? ” 

“Oh! he shall go — ” 

“Do you mean you wish me to live in your hotel?” 

“I wish to share everything with you: my house, 
my jewels, my horses, everything; I give my all to my 
Lord, my Prince I ” 

“ And I will bring you my diamonds. A Jew offered 
me six million for them, but I think they are worth 
much more.” 

“ But we do not need the diamonds, we had best sell 
them.” 

“As you please. We will sell everything, and you 
shall go back to Asia with me. You shall see my 
country, the land of tigers. You shall have a palace 
full of slaves. You shall have elephants on which to 
ride, and armed negroes to defend you. Will you go?” 


N ana’s daughter. 175 

“ Sometime, perhaps, but, my friend, the women of 
France cannot live away from their land.” 

“ Ah ! you prefer your country to me. And yet I, 
Prince, Rajah as I am, have sacrificed all in order to 
see you again. And you, in your turn, sacrifice 
nothing.” 

“ How dare you say that. Rajah, at the very moment 
when I am about to send from my house to make room 
for you, the most faithful friend of my whole life? 
Never will you do what d’Albigny has done for me — 
never, I say, and yet I sacrifice d’Albigny, I throw him 
aside, leave him to ruin and death — for he has ruined 
himself for me — and this you would not do.” 

“ He has given you his gold, you have given him 
your esteem. That which you gave him lasted longer 
than that which he gave you. You have fed and 
lodged him for twenty years, consequently he owes 
you both esteem and life.” 

“ I tell you. Rajah, that he is ruined, and, for a man 
like d’Albigny, ruin is death.” 

“ I am ready to be ruined for and by you. I bring 
to your feet all my treasures, but should you drive me 
from your house as you drove him — ” 

“ Prince,” interrupted Nana, “ when a Frenchwoman 
is threatened she feels she is distrusted, and when she 
is distrusted, she braves everything.” 

The Rajah made no reply. 

The curtain rose on the second act. Nana left at 
the close of the third, and reached home about half past 
eleven. Luke stood in the vestibule waiting to receive 
them. It was he who opened the door. As he did so, 
the moonlight streamed in on the marble statues which 
stood in all their whiteness against a background of 
large leafed plants growing in huge Japanese vases. 

Nana dropped her train and slowly ascended the low 
marble stairs, against which her blue silk skirts made a 
soft rustle. 

Luke, solemn as usual, followed at a respectful 
distance. 

“ Is supper ready ? ” she asked, half turning her head. 


176 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


“ Thinking that Madame would be at home earlier 
than she said, I have everything in readiness,” 
answered Luke. 

“Very good.” 

And she threw him her cloak, her gloves and her fan. 
She nearly buried him under her perfumed belongings, 
and his head rose from among them with a strange, 
almost tragic expression on his pale face. 

Nana, turning, called the attention of the Rajah to 
the amusing spectacle, and laughed aloud. 

Luke with difficulty restrained his anger. 

“ One would think I was a clown once more,” he 
muttered. 

The Rajah heard him, and as Nana passed on he 
approached the lackey and said in a low voice : 

“ Give me back that poison.” 

“ I have not got it,” answered Luke, turning to place 
Nana’s wrap on a table. 

“ That is a lie — ” 

“Very well, then it is.” 

“ Give it back to me, and I will free you.” 

“Free me? Do you think I am a slave? The 
woman whom you have condemned to death will drink 
that poison. You gave it to me for her. 

“ I will kill you.” 

“ It is too late.” 

“ Let her live, and you shall be rich.” 

“I prefer to be revenged.” 

“ I will denounce you then, and she will dismiss you,” 

“ And I will say that you gave me the poison, which 
is one unknown in France. She will dismiss you from 
her door as she did once before.” 

“What on earth are you saying to my people?” 
asked Nana, astonished at this mysterious colloquy 
between Luke and the Rajah. She put her tawny 
head through the portiere as she spoke, and her large, 
limpid eyes had a strange, greenish light in them. 

“1 will tell you presently,” said the Rajah, taking 
her hand to lead her to the dining-room, Luke following 
them. 


nana’s daughter. 


177 


The long windows were thrown wide open on the 
Park, and the wind brought in delicious odors of 
dewy flowers. A faint blue smoke arose from a pas- 
tille burner of beaten silver. 

Two Baccarat carafes were filled with champagne, 
the golden reflections of which lay on the white linen. 

A roast grouse was on a silver dish, opposite a tim- 
halle de nouilles au Parmesan. 

On a Sevres dish having Nana’s initial, were piled 
amber grapes, and scarlet crabs were directly under the 
light which came down from the soft, yellow globes of 
the chandeliers. 

“Did you ever love any one, Nana?” suddenly asked 
the Rajah, when they were seated opposite each other. 

“ With real love, do you mean ? ” 

“ What is real love, daughter of Europe ? ” 

“That which gives to human beings a longing for 
immortality, and the intoxication of which, knows no 
satiety ! Have you forgotten. Prince ? ” 

“No; have I not come across deserts and seas to find 
you ? ” 

“ What would you have ? ” 

“ Your heart.” 

“ I had one once, I believe ; but I was then very 
young, and I must have given it away.” 

“ To the Marquis, I suppose ? Ah I if I were only 
sure of that — ” 

“ Listen to me. Rajah. It was not he whom I loved 
twenty years and more ago. The man was a wretch ; 
but he was the father of my child.” 

“ Of your child ? ” 

“ Yes ; a daughter, whom I sent to the Pnfarits 
Assistes, and I had the father arrested.” 

“ For what ? ” 

“ Because he had stolen — to be sure, it was for me.” 
'• “But why did you part with your child?” 

“ Because at that time I was acquainted with an old 
King who did not like children. The Marquis, too, 
detests them. We cannot always do as we would in 
this world, you see.” 


178 


nana’s daughter. 


Luke stood behind NanaV chair, with his face as 
white as his cravat; but it was as if carved in stone. 
His eyes alone were restless. 

“And how happened it that this man whom you 
denounced did not kill you afterward?” 

“ Kill me ! Oh! Nana is not so easily killed, Prince.” 

“ The man was a coward, I suppose ? ” 

Luke was at this moment filling Nana’s glass with 
champagne frapp^e. 

The Rajah rose to take a seat nearer her, but hesi- 
tated, and leaned over her chair instead. 

At this moment he saw on the shining floor the 
shadow of a black hand extended over Nana’s glass! 

The Rajah caught the glass from the table, and threw 
it through one of the open windows into the Park. 

Without a word to Luke, he drew Nana from the 
xoom.^ 


L 


nana’s dauguteu. 


179 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


THE RAJAH. 


UKE was left alone, a prey to unspeakable torture. 



That Nana still lived, and that she spoke with such 
disdain of a Past that was still so dear to him, com- 
pleted his agony. 

The Eastern Prince had dared to say that he — Luke 
— was a coward, because he had not killed her after she 
had disgraced him by having him arrested. 

And was not the Prince right? 

His brain boiled with the shame thus forced upon him. 

Was this woman invulnerable? What diabolical 
power protected her ? Three times had he attempted 
to disembarrass humanity of this terrible though fasci- 
nating monster, and three times had she escaped — the 
last time saved by this stranger. 

He took his head in his hands, and sought for some 
plan by which he could bring a swift vengeance on this 
mansion, and all sorts of strange and horrible projects 
seethed in his brain like poisons in a witch’s cauldron. 

He determined first to look into Nana’s room. He 
extinguished the lights in the salons and dining-room, 
and then attempted to enter Nana’s private apartment, 
as he had done the night he thought of killing Nana ; 
but he found that impossible, for the door which led to 
the ante-room was locked. 

He ran lightly down the servants’ staircase, and out 
into the Park. The clock of Saint Augustine was strik- 
ing two, and the moon was sinking behind the tall chest- 
nut trees, the shadows of which lay on the green-sward. 

There was not a sound except one sharp whistle on 
the Boulevard de Courcelles — a signal from one police- 
man to another. 

Luke looked up at the hotel, and saw Nana’s win- 
dows faintly lighted. They were open on account of 


180 


nana’s daughter. 


the heat. He knew that in one corner of the h6tel 
there was a long ladder. He ran to get it, but found 
that it was fastened to the wall by a padlock and 
chain. In vain did he endeavor to break one of the 
links with a stone, and time was passing. 

Finding that it was impossible to remove the ladder, 
he climbed, with its assistance, to a cornice, on which 
his excessive thinness enabled him to gain a foothold ; 
and from this to the next floor, and crept along on a 
similar cornice until he reached the half-open window 
of Nana’s room. 

His heart beat so forcibly that he was blind and 
dizzy, and it seemed to him that his brain was dry and 
shook about in his skull. 

He could hear voices within, and presently sum- 
moned courage to look as well as hear. 

He saw first an Oriental hanging lamp ; then several 
ebony chairs, which were supported on two crouching 
sphinxes, with ivoiy claws. On the walls were panels 
wrought with sphinxes. 

Just as Luke looked in, he heard Nana say: 

“ Let us have more light. Rajah. This lamp is too 
suggestive of a mortuary chapel.” 

The Rajah turned in quick obedience to comply with 
this request. He could find no matches. With a trem- 
bling hand, he felt for his portfolio. It contained three 
of Nana’s letters and fifty bank-notes of a thousand 
francs each. 

He took one of these, and, twisting it up, lighted it at 
the lamp, and then used the flame to light the candelabra. 

Nana looked on with a serene smile. 

“ Give me one,” she said, in the coaxing tone of a 
spoiled child. “ I want to light the other.” 

He handed her the whole roll. 

She tossed it on her dressing-table. 

“ They will do for another time^” she observed. 

At this moment the clock struck three, and both 
heard a dull thud, as of a human body falling from a 
height to the ground. 


nana’s daughter. 


181 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

SELF-DISTRUST. 

A NDREE possessed a very uncomfortable recollec- 
tion of her visit to Nana, for she was well aware 
that the splendor she had seen there had affected her 
imagination and haunted her memory. 

When she discovered during her long, silent days, 
when she sat at work in usually healthy thoughts, this 
lamentable fermentation, she began to distrust her own 
strength, and feel a timid fear lest in days to come she 
should be unworthy of Lucien. 

Her cheerfulness vanished, and she was often very 
sad. 

Lucien saw that Andrde was unhappy. One night, 
when he was urging her to consent to a speedy mar- 
riage, Margot, of whom Andr^e spoke in terms of high 
praise, had gone to her attic-room ; Monsieur Naviel 
was smoking a pipe in the kitchen ; his wife was busy 
in the work-room. 

Andr^e and Lucien were sitting on the little balcony 
of the salon. It was the hour when the watering-carts 
were passing through the streets, and, between the 
shouts of the children at play, came the rattle of the 
drops among the leaves of the shrubbery of the 
Square. 

“ Of what are you thinking, Andrde ? ” said Lucien 
to her. 

“ Of you, my friend.” 

“ And is that why you are so sad lately ? ” 

“ I am not sad, I am serious.” 

“ I am beginning to become very impatient. Why 
all these delays ? Why cannot you become my wife at 
once ? ” 

“ Sometimes,” answered Andr^e, “ I feel as if I were 
in a dream. I say to myself something will surely 


182 


nana's daughter. 


happen — a death or some insurmountable obstacle — 
or perhaps he will desert me.” 

“No, Andree, you do not think that! Why wait 
any longer? If death should come to me a little later, 
when I am your husband, I should feel at least that my 
remembrance would always remain with you. I assure 
you, Andree, that it is much better that we should 
marry at once, insignificant as is the position I offer 
you ; you have accepted it, do not, therefore, let us 
longer delay our happiness.” 

“You are right, Lucien, we must marry, and then 
there will be nothing more to fear. Besides, we shall 
spend less money then than now. Your mother will 
live with us, and we will hire a room for her where 
she can put her things and feel at home. The only 
serious expense will be my white dress and the dinner, 
for my orange flowers I shall make myself, and as to 
ornaments, I want none.” 

“ I intend to give you a gold watch.” 

“ No ; why is it necessary for me to know the hour ? ” 

“ In order that you may think of me when I am not 
with you. You will wear it in your belt, and it will 
whisper that I am coming ; and when you hold it to 
your ear it will say to you over and over again, 
‘ darling ! darling ! ’ ” 

“ Then get a silver one.” 

“No; it must be the color of your hair.” 

“And when I am old, my hair will be silver. 
Believe me, my friend, it is not wise to spend too 
much in superfluities.” 

“ It is not ‘ we ’ who spend the money for the watch, 
for we are not yet married. It is I. Why do you 
sigh, Andree ? Have you lost confidence in me ? ” 

“ Oh ! no, Lucien.” 

“ In yourself, then ? ” 

“ At times.” 

“You are unjust to yourself.” 

“ No ; I am often disturbed by certain bewildering 
thoughts with which it is impossible that I could be 
inspired by anything here in my home. Sometimes I 


nana’s daughtek. 


183 


wish I were rich, like Nana, with carriages and servants, 
with a house crowded with all rare and costly things. 
And then I build up a little romance in my own 
mind. I picture myself driving home from the Bois 
some evening in an open carriage, and I meet you 
walking with your dear mother, who is very tired. I 
see that she walks with difficulty, I bid my coachman 
stop, and I propose to take you both home in my car- 
riage; you accept, we know each other in this way; you 
fall in love with me, we are married, and your mother 
is never obliged to walk aii}^ more.” 

“I love my mother, Andr^e, but I prefer that she 
should go on foot.” 

“ You are selfish ! ” 

“ Not so. There are only two classes of women who 
have horses and carriages, Andr^e : rich women and 
worthless women. If you were rich you would not 
wish to be my wife, and if you were — ” 

He checked himself. The mere putting such a sup- 
position into words shocked him. 

“ You mean to say if I were worthless you would not 
want me for your wife ? You are right Lucien. And 
yet there are men who live at the expense of such 
creatures.” 

“ Yes, this very Nana, whom you went to see, has a 
certain Marquis dependent upon her for support.” 

“ D’Albigny,” said Andr^e hastily, with a little 
tremor in her voice, and a heightened color. 

“ How do you know his name ? ” 

“ He was there the day I breakfasted with her.” 

“ I am sorry to hear this, Andr^e. At all events I 
hope you were not left alone with this man ? ” 

“ But I was, and for some time.” 

“In that case, I am certain it was all prearranged. 
You do not know, Andr^e, that all these creatures are 
leagued together to drag down. to their level women 
who are purer and better than themselves. What did 
this man say to you? ” 

“ He spoke of you.” 

“ Ridiculing me, of course ? 


184 


nana's daughter. 


“ Do you suppose, Lucien, that I would permit that? ” 

“ What did he say, then ? ” 

“ Merely that you dressed ill, at which I laughed, as 
it never seemed to me advisable that a man should be 
a walking advertisement for his tailor. He was simply 
jealous of your good looks and youth. Then, too, he — ” 

“ Go on.” 

“ He was jealous, too, of the affection for you which 
I could not help showing.” 

“ He jealous of me I I would wager my life that he 
made some insolent speech to you.” 

“Let us talk of something else, Lucien.” 

“No, Andrde; I am convinced that you are conceal- 
ing something from me, lest I should seek a quarrel 
with this villain — ” 

“I assure you — ” 

“ Tell me the truth.” 

“Well, then, yes, this man did insult me, and I left 
at once.” 

“ I swear that I will slap his face.” 

“Lucien, in the name of Heaven, don’t have any 
quarrel, it will do me harm, for no one will under- 
stand the truth.” 

“ More harm will be done if all these villains, titled 
or otherwise, are allowed to insult you in this way. 
They must be made to see that if hands which toil are 
not accustomed to hold a sword, they are heavy enough 
to inflict punishment of another kind. Have you told 
your father of this ? ” 

“I have done wrong to tell it to you, Lucien. 
Promise me that you will keep it secret, and that you 
will not meddle with this Marquis. In the flrst place, 
he is far stronger than you. 1 once saw him engage 
with a Hercules at a village fair, and although he paid 
^ the Hercules to allow him to conquer him, it is easy 
to see that he could easily beat a man inexperienced 
as yourself. Besides, he practices fencing daily — ” 

“You seem to be aware of his habits?” 

“I am enough of a Parisian to be informed in 


nana’s daughter. 


185 


regard to especial celebrities. Everybody in Paris 
knows Nana and the Marquis.” 

“And all Paris shall soon know that the Marquis 
d’Albigny has had his face slapped by an obscure clerk, 
the fiancS of the florist whose marriage Monsieur did 
his best to break off. I assure you all Paris shall hear 
this, you among the rest.” 

And Lucien hastily touched his lips to Andrde’s fair 
brow, and left the room. 


186 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER XXVIIL 

UNWORTHY SUSPICIONS. 

T he Rajah was in Nana’s boudoir when Virginie 
went to inform her mistress that a young man 
wished to speak to the Marquis d’Albigny, and insisted 
on knowing at what hour he could be seen. 

Nana felt that a new danger threatened the Mar- 
quis, and was anxious to know whom this young man 
might be. 

She asked the maid what name he sent up. 

“ That of Lucien Despretz,” said the woman. But 
this name conveyed no information to her mistress. 

“ Send him into the ante-room,” she said. 

. When Virginie departed to fulfil this order, Nana 
turned to the Indian: 

“ Prince,” she said, “ my days are so fully occupied 
that I must beg you to excuse me until evening. I 
must see this young man on business at once.” 

“ And I, too, have much to do,” answered the Rajah. 
“ I intend to sell my jewels to-day ; and you, in the 
meantime, must make d’Albigny understand that you 
need him no longer, and that he must find another 
home.” 

“ You must permit me. Prince, to deliberate for a 
few days on the course I shall take toward the Mar- 
quis. A man of his position cannot be treated with 
such scanty ceremony. I shall soon, however, be able 
to communicate my decision to you.” 

‘‘You remember what you promised, Nana?” replied 
her companion, with a fierce light in his dark eyes. 
“ You must choose between my devotion and death ! ” 

“ I do not believe in death,” she answered, with a 
ringing laugh. 

“Do you believe in devotion?” 

“ I think not.” 


nana’s daughter. 


187 


“ You deny 3^our Maker ? ” 

“I deny nothing.” 

“ But have you not told me within the last twenty- 
four hours that you would forget the Past for my sake? 
Your words are like the dew which the first rays of 
the morning sun take from the lips of the flowers ! ” 

“Go sell your diamonds, as you said, Rajah, and 
later we will discuss this subject further.” 

Her bewildering smile intoxicated him. He went 
away ; and when he was gone, Lucien was shown in. 

She recognized him at once. 

“Do }^ou come from Andr^e?” she asked familiarly. 

“ Quite the contrary, Madame ; I come in spite of 
her. But it was not to you I wished to speak.” 

“ The Marquis is probably at the Club, sir, and I 
doubt if you could see him at this hour, as, after play- 
ing all night, he is probably asleep on a sofa, after 
giving orders that he is not to be disturbed.” 

“ When shall I be likely to find him here, Madame?” 

“ The Marquis has no hours, sir.” 

“ I presume he finds this convenient, by enabling 
him to avoid explanations — and creditors ? ” 

“ The Marquis never conceals himself ; and those to 
whom he owes money or blood can always find him. 
But it seems to me that 3^00 cannot come under either 
of these heads ? ” 

“ I do not care to enter into a discussion with you, 
Madame.” 

“ Permit me to insist, however, on knowing what you 
want.” 

“I have an explanation to ask of him.” 

“Apropos of what?” 

“ I assure you, Madame, that you have nothing to do 
with the matter.” 

“ I would wager, nevertheless, that it has something 
to do with Mademoiselle Andrde Naviel. I don’t 
doubt that the little simpleton has complained of 
certain politenesses oa the part of the Marquis. But 
they were very trivial, I assure you. It is a way that 
d’Albigny has ; and it is not at all worth quarrel- 
ling about.” 


188 


nana’s daughter. 


“ I do not intend to fight a duel with the Marquis.” 

“Do you not, indeed ! Let me assure you that 
d’Albigny does not fight with every one ; and I doubt 
very much if he would do you the. honor to accept a 
challenge from you.” 

“ The honor would be on his side, Madame.” 

“You certainly have considerable assurance, young 
man ! If you have come here with the idea of provo- 
king an affair of honor with the first swordsman in 
France, it was with the deliberate intention of making 
yourself ridiculous. But on this score I am at ease, 
for all you will gain by your attempt is being put out 
of doors by my servants. Take my advice, therefore, 
and return to your Andrde. Keep all this magnificent 
indignation for her ! ” 

“ You may laugh, Madame, for you have more wit 
than — ” 

“ Than prudence you wish to say, I presume ! 
Please, admit however, that I am very good-natured, 
since I interrupt you, in order to prevent your uttering 
such words. You do not know, sir, I see, that, among 
respectable people, to which class you claim to belong, 
a man never insults a woman. In coming here, as you 
have done, you have shown very clearly that you have 
no claim to being considered — ” 

“ Excuse my interrupting you ; but I have told you 
several times that I did not come to see you. As it 
seems impossible for me to meet the Marquis, will you 
kindly say to him that I wish to have a very serious 
explanation with him ? ” 

“ Very well, if you insist upon it, after I have pointed 
out the risk you run. I wished, if possible, to avoid 
any talk, for the sake of Andr^e ; but, if you persist, 
so much the worse for you, sir ! ” 

“ So much the worse for him, Madame. He had no 
right to address insulting words to my fiancee ! ” 

“ I knew she had complained to you ! ” 

“The Marquis should confine himself to his own 
circle of society. There are enough titled women who 
will listen to him complacently. He need not go to 
those who listen to him with disgust — ” 


nana’s daughter. 


189 


“How do you know that? ” asked Nana. 

“ I know that because I have faith in the woman I 
am about to marry ; and your sneers will not cause me 
to doubt her.” 

“ No ; but perhaps certain information I could give 
you would have that effect — ” 

“ Not another word, Madame, if you please ! ” 

“ Excuse me. I shall speak. I, at least, deceive no 
one. I know your Andree better than you do. Marry 
her, if you will ; but you will repent later.” 

“I have allowed you to utter these false’ hints and 
insinuations, Madame, simpl}" because I wished to see 
how far you would dare go. You are thoroughly 
despicable at heart. Notwithstanding all your bravado, 
you still feel a vindictive hatred toAvard all women who 
have a right to despise you.” 

“ Excuse me, sir ; was it in order to insult me with 
impunity that you were so eager to discover if the 
Marquis was in the house ? Remain, if you choose ; I 
have still much to say in regard to your beloved 
fiancee ; and when I have finished, I shall ring the bell 
for my servants to put you out ! ” 

“ Call your servants, Madame. Call your house- 
hold army ! There is not one among them who will 
not say that I am right — ” 

“ Right in insulting Nana, when you are about to 
marry her daughter?” 

“ Nana’s daughter ! Andrde ! Not she ! ” 

“ You Avant proofs, do you ? There is one that you 
cannot reject. Ah ! you compel me to wound you 
very deeply, but read it.” 

She placed in his hand a letter which d’Albigny had 
brought her the night before. This letter was in reply 
to the request made by the Marquis for information in 
regard to Andree. 

It bore the printed address of L* Assistance Puhlique. 
Monsieur Despretz seized the paper, with a trembling 
hand, and read the folloAving : 

“My Dear Friend: You ask for an official 


190 


N A N A ' S DAUGHTER. 


communication in regard to a child of the female sex, 
left at the Hospice des Hnfants Assistes on the 14th of 
August, 1860. This child was given to Monsieur 
Pierre Naviel, engineer, on the 20th of the same 
month, that is to say six days after the child had been 
left at the Hospice by Virginie, maid to the woman 
Nana, and in the name of the latter, who was the 
mother of the child.” 

While the young man read, Nana fixed her cruel eyes 
upon him. When he had finished, he crushed the 
letter in his hands and tossed it on the floor. 

“You see that I state nothing without proofs,” said 
Nana, in a hard, distinct voice. “ And now if you 
marry Andree, you see that I have a right to demand 
respect from you.” 

Lucien Despretz did not hear what she said, but 
turned hastily away, and, rushing down the stairs, 
nearly knocked over the Rajah, who wa§ descending 
them with Oriental languor. Then, not knowing 
where he was going or what he intended to do, he 
rushed into the Park, and threw himself on a bench 
where he burst into tears. 

Could it be possible ! Was it true that Andree, that 
vision of girlish innocence, who had first appeared to 
him that night at the Bouffes, and had haunted his 
imagination ever since, and now was a portion of his 
very existence — was it true that she was the daugh- 
ter of this wretched creature — that the blood of this 
woman ran in her veins ? Could it be that she, whom 
he worshipped and for whom he cherished such respect, 
was thus related ? He began to be uneasy in regard to 
this gentle maiden. 

Had Nana told the truth. Had this child become 
the victim of a diabolical plot — a plot concocted by her 
own mother — and not dared to tell him the truth ? 

This was w.hy she had been so sad. She was 
ashamed, and reproached herself for her silence as for 
a treason towards the man she loved, but she feared to 
speak openly. If she were questioned, however, her 
lips would be unsealed. 


N A N A ’ S D A U G U T E R . 


191 


Determined to know the full bitterness of the cup 
he was to drink, he started from his seat, and hastened 
towards Batignolles. 

As he passed a cigar shop, he went in and purchased 
a stamp, and then entered a library to write a note to 
his employer to excuse himself for his absence. 

Dropping his letter in a post-box, he hurried to 
the Naviels’. 


192 


nana's daughter. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

A lovers’ quarrel. 

A NDREE was in the work-rooni when Lucien 
entered. She rose in surprise at seeing him come 
in at that unusual hour. She saw at once that he was 
very pale and strangely excited. 

“ What is it, Lucien ? ” she asked, quickly. 

“ I don’t know,” he answered ; “ let me think.” 

He took up a bit of fine wire, as he spoke, and began 
to twist it round his finger. 

Margot watched him out of the corner of her eye. 
“I think there is some trouble brewing for our dear 
young lady,” she whispered to the girl next to her. 

Andree was mounting a rose, and stood with her 
back to the window through which the morning sun 
was streaming — the girl’s fair head was as if surrounded 
by a halo. 

Lucien looked at her intently. Her eyes as they 
met his were ingenuous and pure. 

He succeeded in restraining the stormy words which 
were ready to leap from his lips. He had by this time 
almost forgotten the tie which bound Andrie to Nana. 
He was thinking only of the interview which had taken 
place between the young girl and d’Albigny. He had 
come to her with the intention of insisting on this 
explanation, feeling sure that she would answer 
with truth. 

He had no doubt of the purity of Andree’s inten- 
tions, he feared only that her imprudence would lead, or, 
rather, had led her into danger. 

But now that he was in her presence, he hesitated. 
He was seized with vertigo, so to speak, on the verge 
of this abyss of sorrow, in which all his life and happi- 
ness might be engulfed. 

His anguish became so visible on his frank and 


N A N A ’ S D A U G II T E R . 


193 


honest face that Andree, looking up suddenly, was 
shocked by the expression of his furrowed brow and 
compressed lips. She threw her unfinished rose on the 
table, and said in a low voice : 

“ Lucien, you are concealing something from me. 

What has taken place between you and the Marquis ? 

He took her hand, and drew her out of the 
work-room. 

“ I came, Andree, to ask you what had taken place 
between yourself and the Marquis?” 

“I don’t understand you, Lucien. I have told 
you once.” 

Lucien was greatly troubled. If what Nana had 
said was false, then the expression of his doubts would 
naturally and hopelessly offend Andrde. He knew 
her so well that he felt sure his jiancSe would break 
with him. But to preserve silence now was impossible. 

Andree was puzzled, and somewhat indignant by 
this time. 

“Speak,” she said; “you came to say something. 

You have a question to ask. By your tone and your 
manner, I divine a doubt. Speak! You are a man. 

You have, probably, more courage than 1. Speak, 

I say.” 

“ Andree, do you know what that woman said ? ” 

“Nothing good, of course, and nothing true. Could 
truth come from her lips ? ” 

“ She makes two statements : of the first she fur- 
nished proof which I have seen, of the second no 
proof is possible ; but I wish you to tell me the truth.” 

“ Ask me clearly, Lucien, what you wish to know, 
and I will answer you. as clearly.” 

“Listen to' me, Andr^^e, and understand me. The 
doubt that I wish cleared up is no doubt of you. Your 
loyalty is beyond question. It relates to an infamous 
plot of which you may have been the victim.” 

“ Ah ! I see. And you came to ask me this ? Ah ! / 

Lucien, 1 would not have believed it of you.” 

Her voice shook, and, dropping into a chair, she 
covered her face with her hands and burst into convul- 


194 


nana’s daughter. 


Madame Naviel had gone out before Lucien’s 
arrival. The young people were alone. Andr^e had 
closed the doors of the work-room in order that nothing 
should be heard in the work-room. Both of the 
young people were in despair, and yet Andr^e did not 
know all. She did not yet know that she was the 
daughter of Nana. 

Never had Lucien been so struck by the resemblance 
between Andr^e and Nana as at the moment when the 
girl bade him speak. Her expression then was like 
Nana’s when she sneered at other women. Both 
were of the same perfect type of blondes. The hair 
was of the same golden hue, the complexion similar in 
tone and softness. The atmosphere in which Andr^e 
had lived reacted against all evil tendencies, against 
the temptations of temperament, but it was easy to see 
how, under certain conditions, she might have yielded. 

It was not long before Andr^e dried her tears and 
raised her head. On her lips was a bitter smile. 

“ So, sir, you came to this humble home to ask me,. 
Andr^e Naviel, what were my relations with the Mar- 
quis d’Albigny ? Let me go on, sir. What opinion can 
you have formed of my sincerity ? I am humiliated, 
moreover, that I could have been so mistaken in the 
opinion I had formed of your judgment, for 1 see that 
you are incapable of distinguishing truth from false- 
hood. And I am sorry, too, when I think of your lost 
happiness, for you have lost the friendship, nay, the 
love of a woman who would have made you happier 
than now you can ever be. Go, sir — I pity you, for 
you have broken off our marriage, and shattered all the 
fair dreams we had formed. Ah! you must have 
suffered horribly.” 

“ Yes, Andrde, I have suffered, indeed. All m}’’ cour- 
age has left me, all my strength of body and soul.” 

“ And you have wounded me horribly, sir.” 

“Forgive me, Andr4e, I do not believe what this 
woman said.” 

“You must have believed her, or you would not 
have suffered.” 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


195 


“ Yes, but I believe her no longer, dearest.” 

“Do not call me dearest, you no longer have the 
right. You are not mj fiance now, and, understand 
me, you are never to come here again.” 

“ Cannot you understand, Andr^e, how I was driven 
to despair by what that woman said ? She told me — ” 

“Do not repeat her words,” interrupted Andrde. 
“What do I care what a woman like that says of me? 
What have we two in common ? ” 

“Ah ! you will know only too soon ! ” 

“It seems to me that you persist in putting me on 
the same level with Nana. It is clear, therefore, that 
you still doubt me. All is over between us, sir, and 
we must separate.” 

“ But you do not understand, Andrde.” 

“ No, sir, we understand eacli other no more. Go, I 
tell you : it kills me to see you.” 

“ Andrde, listen to me.” 

“ I have listened to you too much already. Go away, 
I tell yon. Do you wish to kill me at once? Ah! my 
God, what have I done that I should suffer thus ? ” 

She began to walk up and down the room, wringing 
her hands. 

Suddenly she took up her mantle and threw it over 
her shoulders, and putting a hat on her head, tied the 
strings hastily. 

“Andr^e, where are you going?” asked Lucien. 

“ What does that matter? ” 

“ I wish to follow you.” 

“ And I forbid it.” 

“ I wish to know where you are going.” 

“Indeed ! Well, I am going to see Nana.” 

He tried to stop her, but she disengaged herself and 
fled from the house. 

Lucien could not overtake her until she had reached 
* the street. 

“ Andr^e,” he said, breathlessly, “ I implore you not 
to go to that house again. I foresee some terrible mis- 
fortune for us both.” 

“ Do not interfere with me, sir, I do not know you.” 

12 


196 


N A N A ' S D A U G II T E li . 


“ Why persist in this comedy, Mademoiselle ? Come 
back to your mother.” 

“ I beg you not to speak to me again, sir. If you 
continue to follow ani^peak to me, I shall not answer 
you.” 

“Very well, go to Nana, then; we will go together.” 

Mademoiselle Naviel did not reply, but continued to 
walk at a rapid pace toward le Parc Monceaux. When 
she arrived at the Park gate she spoke to a police* 
officer, and pointing to Lucien, she said : 

“ Will you prevent this man from following and 
insulting me ? ” 

The officer went up to Lucien. 

“ Turn about ! ” he said sharply. 

“ But, sir—” 

“ Turn about, I say.” 

“ But, sir, I tell you that this young girl is my 
fiancee^ and that — ” 

The officer took Lucien by the shoulder and wheeled 
him round. 

Lucien did not resist this too zealous official, but has- 
tily traversed parallel streets, hoping to join Andr^e 
before she reached Nana’s hotel. Unfortunately, he 
went astray, and when he reached the door Andr^e had 
been long since admitted. 



nana's daughter. 


197 


CHAPTER XXX. 

andree’s discovery. 

A LACKEY in livery showed Mademoiselle Naviel 
into Nana’s boudoir. 

Nana was taking her bath. The Marquis was alone, 
lying on a sofa and smoking a cigar. 

Perceiving him, Andrde shrank back, but d’Albigny 
rose. 

“You are not afraid of me, my child, I trust?” 

“I will wait in the ante-room until Madame can 
receive me,” answered the young girl. 

“ No, that I cannot permit.” And he went up to her 
and took her little trembling hands in his, and com- 
pelled her to take a seat on the sofa. 

Andr^e had a very bright color, and was out of 
breath from her rapid walk. Her eyes were as bright 
as two stars. 

D’Albigny was dazzled by this youth and beauty, 
which recalled Nana of twenty years before. In a 
solicitous tone, he said : 

“ You seem agitated, Mademoiselle ! ’ 

“ I have reason to be, sir.” 

“ And may I ask the cause of this emotion ? ” 

“ The cause is yourself.” 

“ Myself ! Explain, I beg of you.” 

“ Do you know what my jiancS has just said? ” 

“ I confess 1 do not.” 

“That in this house yom are supposed to be my 
favored admirer.” 

“ What an improbable story ! I cannot see, how- 
ever, who could have invented it.” 

“ A person who is very near to you.” 

“ Nana, do you mean ? It was an idle jest, my child, 
the pleasantry of an idle woman. ' She will take it 
back.’^ 


198 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


“ She must do so, sir. She must undeceive the man 
who believes me capable of betraying him.” 

“ Why is it necessary to undeceive him ? Since he 
believes it, let him continue to do so. So far as the 
past is concerned, the statement is false : as to the 
future, that is uncertain. Do you imagine, Andr^e, 
that I can forget ? ” 

“ This is no time for jests. Monsieur le Marquis. 
I came for another matter, and I wish to speak to 
Madame.” 

“ Who is at her toilette, and will see no one. She 
received your fiancS in my place ; I will receive you in 
hers.” 

At this moment there was a discreet knock at the 
door. 

“ Come in ! ” said the Marquis. 

The same lackey, who had shown in Andr^e, now 
appeared with a card, which he gave to the Marquis. 

D’Albigny read the name aloud. 

“ Lucien Despretz ? Who is he ? Say I am not at 
home — ” 

“ Say 3^ou will see him. It is my fiancS. I want him 
to know the truth, sir, at once. I want him to know 
who is telling a falsehood.” 

“Very well, my child. But it will be hard lines for 
Monsieur Lucien Despretz if he is insolent.” And, 
turning his head to the lackey, he said : “ Show him 
in.” 


The lackey drew the portiere aside. Lucien appeared, 
and went directly up to the Marquis. 

“ It appears, sir,” he said, “ that you are supposed in 
this house to be the admirer of Mademoiselle — ” 

“Excuse me, sir; but on what ground do you ap- 
pear here ? ” 

“ On the ground of being the accepted lover of this 
young lady, whom I surprise in this room.” 

“Not surprise,” interposed Andr^e, “since it was I 
who induced Monsieur to receive 3^011 ; for I was anx- 
ious that you should have other testimony than mine.” 

“Which is very easy to give,” said d’Albigny. 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


199 


“Nothing could be more simple. I begin, then, by 
saying before this gentleman that his JiancSe is not in 
any way interested in me. You may believe me, sir,” 
he continued, addressing Lucien. 

“ I ask no more than that assertion,” said Lucien. 

“But allow me to finish,” drawled the Marquis. 
“ She is not, but she may be! ” 

“ Scoundrel I ” exclaimed Lucien, hoarse with anger. 

“ And is Monsieur Lucien Despretz fully satisfied 
now ? ” asked d’Albigny, airily. 

“ Monsieur Lucien Despretz despises you ! ” said the 
young man. “ Come, Mademoiselle, let us leave this 
house.” 

“Mademoiselle shall not go,” said the Marquis. “As 
to yourself, sir, the sooner you go the better. My 
patience will not stand a much longer trial. Go I ” 

“ I shall not go alone, Marquis.” 

“You will go as I wish, and when I wish.” 

“ Try to put me out.” 

“ No ; I shall not trouble myself. I have servants 
to do such things for me.” 

He rang. 

The lackey appeared. 

“ Put this fellow out,” said the Marquis, languidly. 

“You are a base scoundrel and a coward!” cried 
Lucien, lifting his hand. 

“ You can use what epithets you please, my good 
fellow; but when it comes to acts, it is a different 
matter.” 

And, seizing with his left hand the wrist of the 
young man, before Lucien’s hand touched his cheek, 
he struck him a formidable blow full in the chest. 

Lucien fell unconscious at Andrde’s feet. 

“ Carry that away,” said the Marquis to the lackey, 
pointing, as he spoke, to the inanimate body. 

The lackey lifted Lucien by the shoulders, and 
dragged him into the corridor. 

Aiidrde was about to follow, but d’Albigny seized her 
arm, and said imperatively : 

“Stay here.” 


200 


nana's daughter. 


“ I wish to go away.” 

“ You will remain, nevertheless.” 

“ You have no right to give me any orders ! ” 

“But I have,” interrupted Nana, entering the bou- 
doir, wrapped in the folds of an Oriental burnous. 

“ Precisely, my dear ; and I leave you with your 
daughter, that you may awaken her to a consciousness 
of her duties toward you — and toward me.” 

And, with a sarcastic smile, d’ Albigny disappeared 
behind the portiere. 

“ In a word, then,” said Nana, when she was alone 
with the young girl, “ you are my daughter.” 

“ Your daughter ! ” 

“Yes. Do not interrupt me, Andr^e. You are a 
minor. I have a right to assume your custody, and I 
do so.” 

“You are my mother?” 

“Yes.” 

“ It is easy to say that.” 

“ And easy to prove it.” 

“ How?” 

“ Read this letter.” 

“ I will read nothing — hear nothing I I wish none 
of your proofs ! ” 

“You will not read them? Then, I will read them 
to you. Listen, my daughter. This is a letter written 
to the Marquis by the Assistance Puhlique. Listen, 
and you will understand my rights, which you seem 
disposed to ignore.” 

“ Let me go, Madame — I implore you to let me go to 
my jiancS., whom the Marquis has nearly killed on my 
account.” 

“ Your^awf?^, did you say? Do you suppose I shall 
give my consent ? Oh ! you have strange delusions, 
my dear.” 

“ This is wretched, Madame, and you will repent of 
this violence ! ” 

“ I shall never repent of having snatched you from 
poverty and toil ; and, by and by, you will understand 
what you owe me. Your head is full of false and pre- 


N A N A ’ « DAUGHTER. 


201 


posterous ideas, which the Marquis and I will do our 
best to correct.” 

“ There are laws, Madame, — ” 

“Yes, against minors, who wish to leave their 
mothers’ roofs to run after some miserable vagabond. 
A fine existence that for the daughter of a mother 
with millions — ” 

“ And how acquired ? ” 

“You should respect them as a part of myself.” 

“ I owe you nothing.” 

“ Yes ; you owe me respect. I choose you to read 
this paper, which I read once this morning to that 
young fool whom d’Albigny has just chastised.” 

“Does this paper prove that d’Albigny is anything 
to me ? ” 

“ It proves nothing save that you are my daughter.” 

“It proves a falsehood, then.” 

“ Sa}^ what you choose, my dear. It matters little, 
since I have the law on my side. I have you here, and 
I shall keep you ! ” 

“ The law will forbid you.” 

“ The law forbids the abduction of minors.” 

“ And that is what you are doing.” 

“ It is what the Naviels will do, in complicity with 
your lover, if they persist in keeping you against my 
will.” 

“ We will see about that.” 

“ Ah ! my child, you little know how much you are 
losing by forcing me to such extreme measures. My 
soul was filled with love for you, Andrde. I was so glad 
to have found you, so proud of having a daughter whose 
beauty was worthy of mine. And, now, all this child- 
ishness on your part compels me to severity, which, 
however, is for your own good.” 

“ Was it for my good that you slandered me? ” 

“Yes. And I acknowledge that I have done so. I 
have done this in order to destroy all your foolish 
matrimonial plans. That 3^oung man shall never enter 
these doors again, and you shall not go out, this I 
promise you.” 


202 


nana’s daughter. 


Some one knocked at this moment. 

“ Come in I ” said Nana. 

Luke appeared. 

“ Ah ! Is it you ? ” she said, with an affectation 
of the kind mistress. “ What do you want ? ” 

“ What is to be done with the young man down 
stairs, Madame ? He is coming to, now.” 

“ Toss him into a fiacre and send him home. Here 
is his name and address.” 

She gave the lackey the card which Lucien had sent 
up when he arrived. 

Luke glanced at the card ; a grim smile flickered on 
his face. 

“ Can such things be possible ? ” he said half aloud, 
and turning hastily away, he fled down the stairs as if 
pursued by a spectre, and a half insane laugh echoed 
through the lofty halls. 

“ Poor Face-d- Claques ! ” thought Andrde, “ I wonder 
if he cannot help me now?” 

Nana’s voice quickly recalled her to the stern reality 
of her position. 

“ Come, my child,” she said, “ be reconciled to your 
fate. I will pardon your follies, I will love you myself, 
and will cause you to be loved by others.” 

“ By your creatures, that is to say — ” 

“ And why not, ma belle ? ” interrupted the Marquis 
d’Albigny, whose tall figure now appeared once more 
in the doorway of the boudoir. “Madame has told 
you that you belong to her now — or to us,, rather I ” 

“ I leave you to discuss that point with her,” said 
Nana, rising, and with one glance of diabolical sarcasm 
she passed out of the room. 


kana’s daughter. 


203 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

LOCKS AND BARS. 

"PERMIT me to leave you,” said Andr^e, resolutely. 

_L “ You have nearly murdered my jiancS^ and your 
accomplice has just insulted me. I abhor you both. I 
shall leave you now.” 

“No, Mademoiselle,, you will not leave me. Your 
fiancS will never believe in you again. Your marriage 
is broken off. Besides, he will never completely recover 
from the blow he received at my hands. I thought he 
was stronger, this poor boy, or I should have been a 
trifle more gentle.” 

“You are wrong, and if ever it comes to pass that 
you meet him again on neutral ground, be sure that he 
will kill you. I shall beg him to do so. You may be 
sure of that.” 

“ A young man comes here into my house and insults 
me, lifts his hand against me, I knock him down, as he 
deserves, and you blame me ! ” 

“ You must settle this between yourselves, sir, it is 
your own affair. Now, the question to be discussed 
between us is my liberty, which I want and will have ! ” 

“ When you consent to share your mother’s roof and 
mine, you will have all the liberty allowed to women 
of wealth who lead luxurious lives. I have great 
prospects for you, Andrde, I intend to make you a 
Marquise, a real one, duly married at the Mairie and 
the Church, and called the Marquise d’Albigny, having 
horses, jewels, toilettes, and all that sort of thing.” 

“The best things in the world are sullied when 
certain persons touch them.” 

“ And I am one of those persons, I presume, in spite 
of the fact that I am called the Marquis d’Albigny.” 

“Name and title add nothing to the real value of 
people, and a degenerate Marquis is more to be despised 


204 


N ana’s daughter. 


than a man who is a mere adventurer, and makes no 
claim to be otherwise.” 

“You are none too amiable to your new suitor, 
Mademoiselle, but that matters little. I have asked 
your hand of 3^our mother, and as you are still a minor, 
your wishes, my child, amount to nothing, and I shall 
make up my mind to do without your consent. You 
will find it, therefore, as you are to bear my name, very 
much to your interest not to drag it through the mire.” 

“ Do you think I would marry you — you, who have 
been the creature of — of her who calls herself my 
mother ? ” 

“ I wish to end brilliantly, my dear, and you are the 
means I have chosen. I am not much to be pitied, and 
many men I know would like to be in my place. I 
can’t for my life understand, though, why you should 
be so unwilling to marry me. I am not so bad looking, 
although I am no longer young. I have a certain air, 
I am in good society, 1 have money and a name.” 

“I do not understand you, sir.” 

“ But you will after a while. Your education has 
been very insufficient, and when you are Madame la 
Marquise — ” 

“ You horrify me,” exclaimed Andree, “ and I 
am ashamed that a man like you should venture to 
think of me as his wife. Do you think I am tempted 
to bear your name ? Do you think I don’t know the 
things that are said and believed of you? You horrify 
and repel me ! ” 

“And how do you know my history?” 

“ I hear it constantly related in my atSlier by my 
workwomen. I hear it everywhere I go. You are 
willing to marry me, are you? Well, no money would 
induce me to become your wife. I tell you this with 
all the frankness of a daughter of the people, and as 
Nana left me when a child to the cold mercies of public 
charity, I, in my turn, refuse to recognize her to-day.” 

^ “ You are wrong, because you could very possibly 
aid her to lead a dilfereiit life.” 

“ You may sneer, sir, as much as you please.” 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


205 


“ I am not sneering, I am sincere. Look here, Andr^e, 
notwithstanding all your insolence toward me — me, 
whom your mother respects, I forgive you. I will 
cheerfully grant you all the time 3^ou require to im- 
prove, to become civilized, to humanize you, in 
short. There is only one thing I shall deny you, 
and that is liberty to return to your daily toil, to medi- 
ocrity, and to association with working people. I need 
a true woman as my wife, and you are capable of 
becoming that woman. I have promised your mother 
that I would instruct you, and I will keep my word. 
You are my prisoner! You will see me very often, in 
spite of my being so obnoxious to you.” 

D’Albigny gave a little dry cough, and left the room. 

When Andr^e was alone, she tried to open the door 
of the boudoir, but found it was locked. She rang — 
then rang again. No one came. 

She remained alone for several hours, at the end of 
which time a servant came to take her orders for 
dinner. 

She thanked him, but refused to eat. She was im- 
mensely distrustful of all about her, and was afraid of 
being drugged. She hoped against hope that she 
would be soon rescued, and became, momentarily, more 
and more uneasy about Lucien, who, very likely, was 
seriously wounded. 

This abuse of brute force appalled her; while, at 
the same time, her respect for her lover had increased, 
for his courage had been undaunted. 

She made up her mind to refuse all food, and to die 
of hunger, if no one came to her assistance. 

She hoped, first, that Naviel would come, then Luke, 
and, finally, that the police would aid her ; for she felt 
certain that either her mother or Luke would make a 
formal complaint. It was now growing dark, as the 
evening was cloudy. A servant came in to light a 
lamp, leaving the door open. Andr^e noticed, but 
without attaching much importance to the fact, that a 
light smoke came in from the vestibule. The man 
went out, and locked the door ; and Andr^e knew that 
slie was again a prisoner. 


206 


nana’s daughter. 


She again abandoned herself to her dreary reflec- 
tions. 

Suddenly, it seemed to her that a strange heat wa»s 
in the atmosphere. Where were all the inhabitants of 
this mysterious mansion? Why was she left thus 
alone ? 

She began to pace tho room restlessly. As she 
turned, she noticed an almost imperceptible cloud of 
smoke coming up from the floor in a corner. This 
tiny cloud soon became a grey column, which reached 
the ceiling. The mirror, with its crystal frame, set 
with amethysts, was soon obscured, and reflected 
nothing more. 

The heat increased, and the atmosphere became 
almost intolerable. Andr^e ran to the window, and 
opened it. As she did so, she heard the sound of 
rapid feet running down the stairs, and the cry of 
“ Fire ! Fire ! ” 

Andr^e recognized the voice of Virginie, which 
seemed to come from the bath-room, shrieking wildly, 
“Help! Help!” 

At the same moment, she saw flames burst from the 
lower windows, and a man run out of the gate into the 
Park. 

Amid the cracking of flames, and all the confusion, 
she heard Nana’s voice rising from the court-yard. She 
was saying, quietly : 

“ Let them inundate the cellar, then. The result 
will be an excellent punch ! ” 

No person came to deliver the prisoner. Evidently, 
it was hoped that the fire could be confined to the 
cellar — the windows of which now burst open, one after 
another, and blue flames ascended nearly to the roof. 

Andrde now began to feel a mortal terror, for, 
through every crevice of the boudoir, came a dense, 
yellow smoke. The girl felt that she was forgotten 
amid this panic. 'She was stifling. 

At this moment, the long-threatened storm burst 
forth. The lightning was fearful, and the thunder 
deafening. 


nana's daughter. 


207 


Through the one window, which Andr^e had suc- 
ceeded in opening, poured smoke and sparks, which 
^ caught the hangings, and riddled them with black 
holes, around which the edges were red, and gradually 
enlarging. 

She leaned from the window, and called for aid ; but 
the noise of the engines, the rush of flames and of water, 
the shouts and the cries drowned her voice, which was 
faint with terror. 


208 


nana's daughter. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


LUKE’S DISCOVERY 


UKE was not even bruised when he fell the night 



Jj before. A mass of exotics, with their thick, stiff 
leaves, broke his fall. He struggled from his leafy 
bed, with no other injury than a few bruises, and was 
ready to appear at his usual hour in the morning. He 
was the first to witness the quarrel of the Marquis 
d’Albigny with Lucien Despretz. 

When he learned the name of the young man by 
the card which Nana had given him, he was overcome 
with emotion. This card was like that which he had 
seen fastened to the door opposite Andree’s, on the 
day when Pierre Naviel had saved his life. 

This name awakened bitter remorse in Luke’s heart, 
and reminded him of a dark page in his history which 
he had tried to forget. In his early youth he had 
fled from a young girl whom it was expected he 
would wed, and gone into the country with the famous 
Nana, who had quarreled with and ill-used him. Luke 
was sent, through her means, to prison ; and, when 
released, he was too poor to do more than struggle 
for himself. Later, when better off, he made inquiries 
for Adele Despretz, for this was the name of the girl 
from whom he had fled; but he could find no trace 
of her. Still later, he heard that she had been seen in 
the Jardin des Plantes^ leading a little child, whom she 
called Lucien ; and he remembered, with a pang, that 
he had once heard her say : 

“ If I have a son, I will call him Lucien.” 

When, therefore, he saw a card, bearing that name, 
nailed to a door, he fled on the wings of fear, feeling 
sure that this Lucien Despretz was the son of Adel6. 

He returned to the house a few days later, and asked 
the concierge if there was any person among his lodg- 
ers named Adele Despretz. 


naxa’s daughter. 


209 


“We have a Widow Despretz and her son living 
here,” was the answer. 

If the young man who had been so nearly killed by 
the Marquis d’Albigny, dwelt with his mother, and she 
bore the name of Adele, then a fatal truth was estab- 
lished. 

Andree Naviel being only the adopted child of the 
good Naviels, and the daughter of Nana, her father 
was Luke, who was, in all probability, also the father 
of Lucien. 

This discovery made the marriage impossible. 

Luke’s heart was nearly broken. A presentiment 
had warned him that a fatal doom hung over all he 
touched ; and the sad drama of his life now involved 
the young girl in whose presence he did not wish to 
bow his head. 

He must know the worst at once. 

He hurried to the place where the wounded man had 
been carried. 

Lucien Despretz had just recovered consciousness 
when Luke reached his side. 

“I am to take him away,” he said to the other 
lackey. “ Go get a fiacre for me.” 

His fellow-servant obeyed, and presently returned, 
saying : 

“The carriage is here.” 

“Very well. Now, help me carry him to it.” 

Together, they lifted Lucien, and placed him in the 
fiacre. Luke mounted the box, by the side of the 
coachman, to whom he gave the address of La Rue 
Qroimtiere. 

This man, the former clown, the once faithless, dis- 
honest cashier, who had borrowed ten thousand francs 
from his master’s cash box in order to buy back from 
Nana his child — whom this hardened mother had aban- 
doned — this man, we say, now began to fully realize the 
evil deeds which his devotion to this woman had caused 
him to commit. He realized the misery that his con- 
duct had entailed on others, as well as himself, and 
knew, with a fearful foreboding, that any association 


210 


nana’s daughter. 


with a woman of that stamp must necessarily result in 
shame and degradation. 

The sorrow of Andr^e, the unspeakable horror of 
Nana laying such a trap for the girl, and now 
the fact that he was taking to his mother the youth 
whom the Marquis had attacked, filled him with 
remorse. 

Fortunately Luke exaggerated the gravity of the 
wound, and when he reached his home, Lucien was 
able, with the assistance of the concierge and the lackey, 
to walk from the fiacre, 

“ On what floor does Madame Despretz live ? ” asked 
Luke. 

“ On the third, to the left.” 

Luke hurried up the first flight of steps and there 
stopped, unable to decide what he should say in order 
to prepare the poor mother for the news he brought. 

He rang. 

A lingering step, indicating physical and mental 
exhaustion, a step without vigor or elasticity, slowly 
approached. The man’s heart stood still. 

The door opened. 

The Widow Despretz appeared, her fair, sweet face 
crowned by her prematurely whitened hair. 

“You are Madame Adele Despretz?” asked Luke in 
a voice that trembled in spite of himself. 

“ Yes, I am Madame Addle Despretz, and what do 
you wish, sir? ” 

“ I come to tell you, Madame — excuse me, but I am 
very sorry — your son — ” 

“ Has anything happened to Lucien ? ” 

“ It is not of much consequence, Madame.” 

“My son is hurt? Where is he, sir? Oh! where 
is he ? ” 

“With the concierge, Madame.” 

She hurried to the stairs. This woman, who had 
seemed so broken and weary, recovered her agility, and 
disappeared down the spiral staircase with the rapidity 
of a girl. 

He followed to assist the concierge in bringing the 


nana’s daughter. 


211 


young man up stairs, and at last they had the pleasure 
of placing him on his bed. 

“It is nothing, dear mother,” Lucien said faintly, 
when he saw the tears in her eyes. 

His mother sank on her knees by the side of the bed, 
and, as she took his hand in both liers, she said : 

“ Are you saying this only to comfort me ? Let me 
send for a physician.” 

“No,” he answered with decision, “I assure you that 
I am not suffering, it is nothing.” 

The concierge was sent at once to the apothecary’s 
for some simple remedy. 

Luke stood looking at the sad group before him. 
The light of a cloudy day came through the curtained 
windows. These windows opened on a court-yard ; 
the room had an almost cloisteral aspect, and might 
have been mistaken for the cell of a novice. 

A table of white pine served for the toilette. Two 
cane-seated chairs stood against the wall. A walnut 
bureau held some books which evidently were prizes 
Lucien had received at school. 

Tears rolled down the cheeks of the former clown. 
Lucien saw them, and was astonished that a servant 
of his adversary could show so much sympathy. 

“Your interest touches me very deeply, my friend,” 
he said at last ; “ who are 3^011 ? ” 

“ You may see by my lively that I am in the service 
of the woman whose creature — ” 

“ He fought with this man on account of Andr^e,” 
exclaimed the poor mother. “Yes, that is it. Oh! why 
did her parents allow the girl to go near that woman ! ” 

“ Yes, mother, they did very wrong, for now these 
wretched persons are telling the most audacious false- 
hoods about the poor child. They say that on the day 
she breakfasted there — ” 

“ They ma^" say what they please,” interrupted Luke. 
“I was in the room all the time, and never left it once.” 

“But, unfortunately^ one thing they say is true; 
Andr^e is nob the daughter of -good Madame Naviel.” 

“ What do you mean, Lucien?” 

13 


212 


N A N A ’ S DA U G H T K Ti . 


“I mean tkat Andr(^e is the daughter of Nana.” 

“ Impossible ! Lucien, you are delirious — ” 

“No, Madame,” said Luke, interrupting, “it is true, 
and your son cannot marry her.” 

“ But Mademoiselle Andree is a dear, sweet girl, 
although she is the child of that woman. My poor 
Lucien, who is goodness and honor itself, had for a 
father a very bad -man.” 

The pale face of the lackey grew deadly white as he 
stammered out : 

“ Why do you teach your son to despise his father ? 
You do not know what may have driven the man of 
whom you speak, to the manner of life he adopted.” 

“ As if the man had half as much to bear as I ! Look 
at my white hair, and 5^et I am only forty-five. Ah ! 
I know men only too well, and know of what stuff 
they are made — ” 

“ Go on, then, say whatever you choose of him — 
crush him to powder under your feet. You are quite 
right, Madame. The man who has destroyed the hap- 
piness of your life can be nothing less than a villain. 
But in the name of Heaven, do not say so in the pres- 
ence of the flesh of his flesh.” 

In his agitation Luke opened the wrong door to 
depart, and found himself in the next room. Madame 
Despretz followed to show him out. 

Hardly, however, was he alone with her and out of 
the sight of the young man, than he fell on his knees 
at her feet and sobbed out : 

“I am a miserable wretch! Forgive me, Adele — 
chase me from your fireside, if you will, but say no evil 
of me, to this unhappy boy whose father I am. If he 
questions you, tell him that you do not know what has 
become of me ; say I am dead, if you will, for I have 
long been dead to you both.” 

Madame Despretz’s colorless face was transfigured. 

“Ah I I know you now I ” she cried, “I know you. 
You are — ^just what you say you are — and yet you dare 
come here I There is the door ! Go 1 ” 


kana’s daughter. 


213 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

IMPENDING DIFFICULTIES. 

W HEN Lucien Despretz was once more alone with 
his mother, he told her what had occurred. 

Nana claimed to have rights over Andr^e, as if this 
woman could again assume rights and responsibilities 
which she had wilfully and deliberately discarded. 
More than this, Nana had locked the girl up in a room, 
and had forbidden her to leave the house. D’Albigny 
had had the effrontery to say that his plans and those 
of Nana were all made, and it was only too clear that 
they were based on the wonderful beauty of the young 
girl. 

At this very moment Andrde was in danger. Mon- 
sieur Naviel must be at once informed of what had 
taken place, but Madame Despretz hesitated to leave 
her son, ill as he was. Lucien, however, entreated her 
to proceed without delay. 

Both mother and son were ignorant of the law in 
this case — if the Naviels were only parents by adoption 
and Nana could prove the truth of her assertion, what 
then ? 

“ I am afraid that a great sorrow is preparing for 
you, Lucien,” said Madame Despretz. “ Who can tell 
what effect the offers and promises of this woman may 
have on Andr^e ! Your fiancee is pretty and good, but 
at the same time she is, as you know, somewhat coquet- 
tish, and more than a little adventurous ; her imagina- 
tion is easily kindled, and you must be careful, f After 
all, life is a struggle, and love a lottery.") Women fall 
victims to snares of all kinds, but a man may also be 
deceived — ” 

“ Mother,” interrupted* Lucien, “ your doubts do her 
injustice, and give me a great deal of pain. Let me be 
young, let me believe in love. Your marriage was not 


214 


nana’s daughter. 


a happy one, and my father has given yon, I fear, an 
unfortunate opinion of all men. Yet love exists— -I 
know it well. My youth has been exceptionally dis- 
creet, for I have been always at your side. Andr^e is 
the only woman I ever saw whom I would marry, 
and — ” He became excited as he spoke, and suddenly 
he laid his hand on his breast, and sank back on his 
pillow. 

“ Lucien ! my child! what is it?” cried his mother. 

“ It is over,” he answered, “ it is nothing of any con- 
sequence. I received a blow in the chest, and I raised 
a little blood ; but it is nothing. Pray, go at once to 
Naviel. If d’Albigny has anything to do with him, he 
will soon find out that it is no fool’s play.” 

The concierge now came in with a cup of tisane. 

“Drink this, sir,” said the old man, a former soldier, 
and now combinitig the duties of postman and con- 
cierge. “ Drink this ; there is nothing better for a blow 
like that you have received. If you are going out, 
Madame Despretz, don’t be troubled, I will remain 
with your son. My wife will see to the loge.” 

“Very good,” answered Lucien’s mother, “I will 
take a carriage in order to be back sooner.” 

She dressed in haste, putting on her plain black 
shawl and bonnet, and went away, leaving Lucien 
under the care of the concierge. 

Forty minutes later she reached the Naviels’ door. 

It had grown dark very early, for the sky was cov- 
ered with thick clouds, deep saffron in hue. 

The atmosphere, charged with electricity, seemed to 
weigh heavily on the trees of the Square. All the 
branches drooped, while the foliage, covered thick with 
dust, seemed petrified into stillness. The swallows 
flew restlessly about, darting through the air like 
arrows, and uttering shrill cries. 

The railroad track was already lighted. A locomo- 
tive passed along belching forth thick white smoke and 
emitting from time to time its whistles of warning, the 
echo of which rung through the depths of the tunnel. 

A flash of lightning tore the yellow clouds apart, and 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


215 


a luminous streak appeared along the horizon. Large 
drops spattered on the sidewalks, and distant muttering 
thunder shook the leaves of the trees. 

Madame Despretz rang at the door. Margot opened it. 

“ Has Mademoiselle Andr^e returned ? ” asked Lu- 
cien’s mother, hastily. 

“No, Madame, and everybody is uneasy about her. 
Come in, Madame Despretz. I will tell Madame you 
are here.” 

“ Do not disturb her, I will go myself to the work- 
room and speak to her there.” 

“ Where is Andree ? ” asked Madame Naviel as soon 
as she beheld her visitor. 

“ She is with Nana.” 

“Since when?” 

“ Since this morning, and my son has been nearly 
killed by a certain d’Albigny.” 

“ The Marquis d’Albigny ! ” 

“ Who knocked him down with a blow on his chest. 
As to Andrde, it seems that Nana declares you are not 
her mother, and that she is.” 

“ It is true, Andr(^e is only my child by adoption, but 
I have been a truer mother to her than this — woman — 
who was rolling in gold and yet sent her child to the 
EnfanU by her servant. We had no children, 

Naviel and I, for the one sent us by the good God had 
died long before. We both of us loved children, and 
finally Naviel went one day to the Hospital and took a 
child who had just come in. It was a girl — I should 
have liked a boy better, but I let him do as he would. 
The little one was very sweet. We were told that 
she was the daughter of this woman, but we took her all 
the same, and we have never had any reason to com- 
plain of her. We want to keep her, therefore, until she 
is married. We have been told, too, that her mother 
no longer has any rights over her.” 

Monsieur Naviel came in at this moment, all drenched 
with rain. 

“ You do not know what has happened? ” he said to 
his wife. 


216 


nana’s daughter. 


“ Something. good, I hope.” 

“ Yes, it is good for somebody, because it will give a 
good deal of work to laboring people.” 

“ What is it, pray ? ” 

“ Only that I have just seen the firemen rush toward 
the Parc Monceaux," 

At this moment, a lurid light flashed into the room 
through the windows. 

The work-women hastily started up to see the fire. 

Far away over the trees of the Parc Monceaux^ 
against the dense blackness of the sky, rose a column 
of smoke, growing momentarily larger, and clouds of 
sparks soared higher still. At the same moment, a for- 
midable tempest coming from the West burst over 
Paris, and the thunder crashed with a deafening sound. 

“ I can’t make out just where the fire is,” said Margot. 

Madame Naviel said something in a low voice to her 
husband. 

He suddenly exclaimed : 

“ Upon my life, you are right ! It is the house in 
which that wretched Nana lives — and you say our 
daughter is there ! Ah ! what a misfortune ! ” 

“ Would you believe, Monsieur Naviel, that the Mar- 
quis d’Albigny has nearly killed my son ^because he 
wished to take Andr^e away.” 

“ I see what they both want, this miserable woman 
and the man whom she uses as a tool. Misfortune, 
indeed ! ” And he rushed away. 

The rain dashed against the front of the house. 
Pierre Naviel ran as fast as possible toward Nana’s 
hotel. The light increased at the end of the street. 
The trees of the Park seemed riddled with flaming 
holes. 

Tongues of fire stretc-hed out, lapping the darkness, 
and then were scattered by the wind into a shower of 
sparks. 

Monsieur Naviel found two policemen going to the 
fire. 

“It is Nana’s house,” said one, “ I am sureat is.” 

“ Is there any one in the house? ” asked Naviel. 


nana’s daughter. 217 

“ The story goes that there are two or three persons 
burned to death. It is a great pity.” 

Monsieur Naviel was too far away by this time to 
hear any comments. A mortal anxiety in regard to 
Andrde gave wings to his feet. 

Perhaps this Marquis d’Albigny had left the girl to 
her fate without thinking of assisting her. When he 
reached the outer Boulevard he was obliged to make 
one among a crowd of curious lookers-on. 

Occasionally, when the wind blew in their direction 
the heat was intense. Monsieur Naviel got away from 
this crowd and ran through unfrequented streets, all 
the time hearing the crackling and roaring of the flames 
with more and more distinctness. 

The storm was passing over, and the lightning was 
less fierce and less furious. The rain suddenly ceased. 
The orders of the Fire Department were now distinctly 
heard, conveyed through a trumpet by a man who 
stood high up on a wall. 

Monsieur Naviel succeeded in passing through a gate 
which communicated with the hotel from the Park. 

“ Where are you going? ” asked a policeman. 

“ I am looking for my daughter, who was in this 
house to-day and has not since been home.” 

“■I am sorry to say several persons went in who have 
not since been seen. We fear there are many victims. 
Only a few minutes ago a lackey ascended that ladder 
you see there, and entered the window above. He has 
not been seen since.” 

“ I will try the same ladder,” was Naviel’s reply. 


218 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE RUSSIA LEATHER NOTE CASE. 

O N leaving the Marquis and Andr^e, Nana went to 
her dressing-room to make her toilette. She was 
going to the Circus, with d’Albigny, for an hour or so. 

Mulhausen sent up to know if he might be admitted. 
Virginie was dressing Nana’s hair when the Prince 
entered. 

“You are divine!” he said, with that exaggerated 
gallantry which certain foreigners adopt in France to 
imitate French politeness. “ What do you mean to do 
to-night ? ” 

“ I am going to the Circus.” 

“ And you will allow me to join you ? ” 

“ Of course. You will dine with me ? ” 

“ I promised a friend to join him ; but I will be back 
here in time.” 

“ Why have you not brought him with you ? ” 

“ Because I have already too many rivals in your 
circle. Where — by the way, where is the Rajah ? ” 

“ You will see him to-night.” 

“ At the Circus, you mean ? ” 

“ No ; I had forgotten. I promised to see him on 
business, and I shall be obliged to give up the Circus ; 
and you. Prince, must go to the Club with d’Albigny. 
You remember our agreement?” 

“ What agreement ? ” 

“ That we should be partners.” 

“Very good.” 

“If you win — ” 

“We divide, of course. But if I lose?” 

“ Oh I you must remember that I am your associate 
in good fortune — never in evil ones ! I like lucky 
people, as a rule.” 

There was a knock at the door. 


nana’s daughter. 


219 


“ Come in,” said Nana, who, standing at her mirror, 
was drawing a black crayon over her brows. 

It was Luke. 

He seemed to have grown pale and thin. His gar- 
ments hung loosely upon him, and his silk stockings 
wrinkled in heavy folds. 

He came to announce the Rajah, and drew back 
against the wall, to allow him to pass. 

The Oriental seemed excessively fatigued. He 
hardly bowed to Mulhausen, but sank into an arm- 
chair in sullen silence. 

Nana leaned over the back of the chair, and said 
something in a low voice ; while the Prince de Mul- 
hausen sauntered to a window, in annoyed silence. 

“ Please Prince, tell the Marquis that I cannot go to 
the Circus. I have to talk business with the Rajah,” 
said Nana, with her little, nervous laugh. 

“I understand,” answered the Prince, as he lighted 
his cigar at the candelabra before he left the room. 

“ You see ; I send them all away,” said Nana to the 
Rajah, as the door closed. 

“ Take this,” said the Indian, as he extended a Rus- 
sia leather pocketbook. 

She tossed it carelessly into a drawer, where lay the 
roll of bills of the evening before. 

Presently she lifted her head like a startled deer, 
and scented the air with her flexible nostrils. 

“It seems to me that I smell smoke!” she exclaimed. 
“ How quickly the night has come. There is certainly 
going to be a shower.” 

A flash of sharp lightning illuminated the sky. 

The Prince de Mulhausen came in at the same 
moment. 

“ The hotel is on fire ! ” he cried. 

“What of it?” said Nana, with a certain hardness 
of tone. “ That is no reason why you should enter my 
room as if it were an omnibus! Where is d’Albigny?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“ Come, gentlemen, we will go and see.” 

She rang the bell, but no one obeyed the summons. 


220 


nana’s daughter. 


She opened the door of the ante-room, and was 
greeted by a thick smoke, which nearly stifled her. 

“ This is horrible ! ” she said. 

“ Where are the private stairs ? ” asked Mulhausen, 
nervously. 

“ Don’t talk about the stairs ! ” she replied, angrily. 

“ Find d’Albigny.” 

But Mulhausen did not move, and she ran through 
the smoke to the apartment occupied by the Marquis. 

He was not there. The smoke became more and 
more dense. Nana returned to her dressing-room, 
where her two companions awaited her. 

“ Let us go down,” she said. “ The Marquis is very 
likely down stairs.” 

She again opened the doors which communicated ^ 
with the stairs, but the smoke was so thick that only 
the delicate tips of the exotics emerged from it. Sud- 
denly there was an explosion, and blue flames mounted 
to the very roof. 

Nana hastened back, and closed the doors. 

“We three are to be roasted, that is clear!” sighed 
the German. “ Nana, you will certainly be the cause 
of my death — ” 

Nana laughed nervously. 

“ Or you of mine,” she said. “ Which, after all, 
would be the greatest misfortune, I wonder? I am 
inclined to believe, my poor Mulhausen, that it would 
be easier to find a Prince like you than a woman like 
me.” And she laughed. 

“ Really,” answered Mulhausen, “ I do not see any- 
thing to laugh at.” His vanity was deeply wounded, 
and he allowed it to be seen. 

“ Come with me,” she said ; “ I will show you out.” 

And she guided them down the servants’ stairs ; but 
the smoke grew thicker as they advanced, and the walls 
hotter. However, they finally reached the court-yard 
in safety. They stood togetlier, and looked up at the 
hotel, which the flames were now eagerly licking from 
top to bottom. 

“Heavens!” cried Nana to the Rajah, “you have 
forgotten your pocketbook ! ” 


nana's daughter. 


221 


The Rajah threw up his arms toward the sky, which 
was now the color of blood. 

“ It was written in the Book of Fate, Nana, that you 
would ruin me ! ” 

“But the fire has not yet reached my room ; go back 
there,” she insisted vehemently. 

The Rajah looked at her with eyes full of bitter 
resignation. 

“ And this, daughter of Paris, is your devotion ! ” 

He turned away, and with one bound disappeared up 
the stairs and was lost in the smoke. 

The darkness in which he found himself was so com- 
plete that he had no idea where he was going ; he tried 
to open a door to which chance led him, and under 
which he saw a ray of light. 

“ Help ! Help ! ” cried a woman’s voice. “ I am 
locked ill here ; whoever you may be, save me ! ” 

The Rajah started. This voice was new and yet 
familiar to him. He threw himself against the door, 
which he burst open. 

Andrde Naviel was standing under the dim light of 
the chandelier. She seemed to have grown taller, and 
the brilliancy of her youthful beauty was softened by 
the cloud which hung over her. 

The Indian Prince stood still, bewildered and 
fascinated. 

Then, slowly approaching her, he said in a grave 
voice : 

“1 am thankful to Destiny which led me here to 
save you.” 

“ But we may not be able to escape.” 

“ Death has no terrors for me, if 1 die with you ! ” 

“ Who are you ? ” 

“ A friend of Nana’s.” 

“The Rajah?” 

“Yes, the Rajah— and all that I have in the world is 
within these four walls.” 

“We may be able to save your property; there may 
yet be time.” 

“ All my property is contained in a Russia leather 
case which I brought into Nana’s room an hour ago.” 


222 


nana’s daughter. 


“ Come, let us see what we can do.” 

They made their way to Nana’s room, but just as 
they entered a formidable explosion was heard and the 
gas went out ! 

In the darkness, however, the Prince succeeded in 
finding his leather case and the huge roll of bills. 

Then he drew Andr^e toward the servants’ stair- 
case, the intense heat all the time increasing. The 
floors grew hot to the feet and the Aubusson hangings 
emitted an odor of burning wool. 

The double doors of the main staircase twisted and 
turned like living things. Suddenly they split and fell 
in bits, while the flames leaped through the rooms. At 
this moment the chandelier on the stairs fell to the 
mosaic pavement below where it broke with a loud 
crash. 


nana’s daughter. 


223 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A STRANGE MEETING. 

A fter his interview with Andrde, d’Albigny, not 
knowing that Nana would relinquish her intention 
of going to the Circus, put on his dress coat and white 
tie. He thought as he did so that, after all, it would 
be a very ^Y\se thing for him to marry Andr^e. 

Andr^e was Nana rejuvenated. He felt certain that 
beneath this varnish of modest worth were germs of 
qualities inherited from her mother. He intended to 
cultivate these germs. 

Once invested by marriage with supreme authority, 
he meant to carry out a plan he had formed. For some 
time he had felt the end was near and that Nana could 
not keep up this luxury much longer. This magnifi- 
cence, though hers, was ostensibly his, and he well knew 
the importance it had given him in certain business 
relations, and if he lost this prestige — what then? 

Nana was growing old, or, to put it more politely and 
at the same time with more truth, she was growing 
older, and when Andr^e was his wife, he could induce 
her to get her mother off into the country, and him- 
self take possession of her property, which was now 
very much under his control. 

His reflections were interrupted by cries of alarm 
echoing throughout the hotel. 

His first movement was to place about his person all 
his jewels and all his valuable papers. Then, through 
the blinding smoke, he made his way down the main 
staircase and out into the Park. 

“ Where is Madame ? ” he asked of the first servant 
he met. 

“ In her room, sir.” 

“ Is she alone ? ” 

“ I am unable to say,” 


224 


nana’s daughter. 


“ His Excellency, the Rajah, is with Madame,” said 
Luke, coming forward. 

The Marquis tried to enter the cellars where the fire 
had begun, but the flames forced him back. 

It was just at this moment that Nana went down 
with Mulhausen and the Rajah. 

When the Eastern Prince went back to look for his 
Russia leather case, the Marquis handed a key to Luke. 

‘‘You shall have five hundred louis,” he said, “if 
you save Mademoiselle Andr^e Naviel.” 

“ Is Mademoiselle still here?” cried the lackey. 

“ Yes, in the boudoir ; that key opens the door.” 

The floor of the grand salon fell in with a great 
crash, and all this time the lightning was flashing in 
zig-zag lines across the sky. Luke placed one end of 
a ladder at Nana’s window, and presently disappeared 
over the sill. 

“Why did the Rajah go back?” asked d’Albigny of 
Nana, who had just ordered the horses to be brought 
out of the stables. 

“I sent him for his note-book, which was forgotten 
by us both.” 

“ The deuce you did ! ” muttered the Marquis. “ Did 
it not occur to you that he might not be able to find 
the room, and if he did, that he was quite likely to 
perish there miserably ? I am going to look for him.” 

“ No, d’Albigny — no ! You are mad ! I cannot under- 
stand you — ” 

He answered under his breath, as he turned away : 

“ I do not go into that burning pile only to save the 
Rajah !” 

He attempted in his turn to ascend the private stairs, 
but the heat was so intense that it scorched his face. 
He went to a water bucket, wet his handkerchief and 
fastened it over his face like a mask, and made another 
attempt. This time he succeeded in reaching Nana’s 
room. 

An idea had occurred to him as Nana spoke. If the 
Rajah had lost his way in the burning hotel and were 
to perish in the flames, then it were well that M. 


N A N A ’ S D A U G n T E R . 


225 


d’Albigny should rescue and profit by the fortune he 
would leave behind. 

Suddenly, through the window leaped a man. 

“ Who are you ? ” asked the Marquis. 

“ My name is Naviel.” 

“For whom are you looking?” 

“ For my daughter.” 

“You have no daughter, my good man; the young 
lady of whom you speak is to become my wife.” 

“ Ah ! you are d’Albigny, then ? Where is she ? ” 

“ That is my affair and her mother’s.” 

“Very good, sir. I have heard much of you, but 
none of your adventures equal this ! Let me tell you, 
sir, that no father ought to allow a villain of your type 
to live.” 

“ In the first place, you are not her father.” 

“ By the law, by the affection she shows me, by the 
respect she gives me, I am her father. Yes, sir, I am 
her parent far more than is the unnatural creature who 
cast her off. We have no time to lose. Where is 
Andr^e ? ” 

“ I do not know.” 

“ That is false.” 

“ Do you know how I treat people who insult me ? 
Ask the young fellow who came here this morning to 
lure Nana’s daughter away.” 

“ You are a coward ! You struck a boy who had not 
physical strength enough to return the blow. But I 
am a machinist, and have the arms of one, and you will 
not now be let off so easily, nor shall you budge one 
inch until I know from you where my daughter is.” 

“Your obstinacy will cost us our lives.” 

“ No ; I am not afraid of fire, I have spent too much 
of my life at the mouths of furnaces. So much the 
worse for you if you are to burn, do you know that ? ” 

“ Stay if you will, I am going.” 

“ For the last time, where is my daughter ? ” 

“ You shall never know ! ” 

“ Villain! ” cried the engineer, and, seizing d’Albigny 
by the throat, he threw .him down with one hand, 


226 


nana’s daughter. 


while with the other he tore the silk cords and tassels 
from a curtain. With these he intended to bind his 
opponent. 

“ Let me go ! ” gasped d’Albigny. “ I will tell you.” 

Naviel set him free. Then, with the treachery of a 
tiger, the Marquis leaped upon Andr4e’s father and 
seized him by the waist. The attack was so sudden 
and so unexpected that Naviel was lifted from the 
floor before he well knew what had taken place. 

At this moment, the white silk curtain of the bed 
burst into flames. The Venetian mirror, with its silver 
frame, was instantaneously shivered to atoms. The 
shattered frjigments fell on the statue over the clock, 
which instantly stopped. Naviel had time to clutch 
the Marquis by the throat and drag him down. The 
two men fell in a confused mass, one on the other, both 
struggling and panting like wild beasts, while cinders 
and sparks were falling from the ceiling. 

Suddenly d’Albigny uttered a cry of agony. 

“ Let me go ! I am burning ! ” 

But Naviel was now like a tiger in his rage, as he 
held the Marquis down close to the floor and proceeded 
to tie his arms with the heavy silk cords he had torn from 
the curtain. In his angry vehemence he pulled them 
so tightly that the blood spurted forth. 

“ Murderer ! ” groaned d’Albigny, whose convulsed 
face, pressed upon the floor, was now burning fright- 
fully. 

“ Where is Andr^e ? ” asked Naviel once more. . 

“ Loose your hold and follow me, and I will show 
you.” 

Naviel assisted the Marquis to his feet, and together 
they endeavored to enter Nana’s boudoir through the 
ante-room. 

But it was too late. The floors were on fire, and it 
was impossible to advance a step. 

At this moment, a phantom with blazing hair and 
blanched face darted toward the Marquis. 

“ JShe is not there — here is the key of the boudoir — I 
found the door broken in,” panted Luke. “She is 


nana's daughter. 227 

probably safe, and now let us look out for ourselves, 
for we have no time to lose.” 

“ If the child has been harmed in any way I shall 
hold you responsible, and you will see me again ! ” cried 
Naviel in a voice of sinister meaning, addressing the 
Marquis. 

“The floor is falling in — Quick! to the ladder, gen- 
tlemen, to the ladder ! ” shouted Luke. 

He was the first to dart through the flames and 
reach the window. 

Naviel went next. 

The Marquis was the last. All three climbed out 
on the balustrade. 

The ladder which the lackey and Naviel had used to 
enter the room was gone ! 

14 


228 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XXXVL 

GOOD ADVICE. 

^PHEY called for help. Their situation: was terrible ; 

I their voices could not be heard by the people 
below, for the noise was immense ; their figures could 
not be seen on account of the thick smoke. 

Suddenly, the fioor of Nana’s room fell through on 
one side. All the furniture slipped on the inclined 
plane, and the bed itself fell into the crater, from 
which the flames arose with new vigor. 

Luke, Naviel and the Marquis left the window, and 
clung to the cornice outside. The wall was so hot 
that they could scarcely touch it. 

“I shall jump,” said the Marquis, and he leaped 
from the height. 

Luke and Naviel saw him plunge into the smoke. 

“ If you think you can walk that distance,” said 
Luke, pointing to the wing, “ there is a ladder at the 
window of the Salle Arme%r 

“Go on; if I find I can’t do it, I will jump,” an- 
swered his companion. 

They were obliged to pass three windows, from one 
of which flames were belching forth, and it was with 
difficulty they succeeded in going on. When they 
reached the ladder, which the lackey had perceived at 
a distance, their hair was scorched and their garments 
burned, as well as their bodies, in several places. 

When their feet were safe and firm on mother earth 
the two men grasped each otlier’s hands, and Luke said : 

“ I have not yet done with you. Monsieur Naviel. 
Will you permit me to give you a little piece of 
advice ? ” And he hesitated. 

“ Go on — advice about what ? ” 

“ What I have to say is in regard to your daughter ; 
I did not know you at first, but I want to tell you that 


nana’s daughter. 


229 


your daughter must have got away with the assistance 
of this ladder. And I beg of you to keep her away 
from Nana. Distrust that woman, look out for her, 
and for the Marquis still more, for these two are as 
thick as thieves. They have in their possession ample 
proof that Andr^e is Nana’s daughter, and that she is 
merely your daughter by adoption. They wish to take 
her away from you, you may readily imagine why. 
Now, keep your eyes open. You have made a terrible 
enemy for yourself, and it would really have been 
better for you had you let d’Albigny alone, or let him 
broil ; either course would have been advisable, but in 
my opinion the latter was preferable.” 

“ I am not afraid of the Marquis ; I have two good 
fists of my own — he won’t touch me.” 

“No, I dare say not; he won’t touch you openly, 
but he is capable of all sorts of underhand perform- 
ances.” 

“ I am not afraid, I tell you.” 

“Nor am I. The worst thing he can do to me is to 
put me out of doors, if these two have any doors left.” 

“ Any way, it is not a place for a respectable man 
like you. Look out for something better. Well ! good 
bye. I fancy we shall both of us remember this night.” 

“ Indeed, we shall ! And, Monsieur Naviel, 1 will 
call to-morrow, to ascertain how you all are, and if 
Mademoiselle Andrde is quite right.” 

The two men now separated, Luke returning to give 
his assistance at the fire. 

The Marquis was in the front row, superintending 
Nana s servants, who formed a chain. 

When he saw Luke, he said : 

“ What has become of that scoundrel with whom we 
so nearly perished?” 

“ He is safe, sir, as well as I.” 

“Very good. It was a lucky thing for me, my good 
fellow, that you came on hand, for but for you I 
should have been assassinated by this thief, whom I 
prevented from carrying off some of Madame’s prop- 
erty.” 


230 


nana’s daughter. 


Nana approached, and said, with a wicked smile : 

“ Luke can prove the violence to which you were 
subjected, as he reached the spot just in time to save 
your life.” 

“ Yes ; I can give my testimony when the time comes. 
But you ought to have him arrested at once, if you 
intend to do it at all.” 

“ Very true,” said Nana. “ Why did you let him 
escape ? ” 

The Marquis took Nana’s arm, and led her aside. 

“ You don’t understand, my dear ; ” and he smiled 
sardonically. “ If I had ordered him arrested, he 
would have been searched — ” 

“Well?” 

“ And nothing would have been found on him, and 
his innocence would have been established. That, you 
will admit, was not what I wanted. This man has 
crossed the path of the Marquis d’Albigny. He must 
be crushed like the others. It shall not be said that a 
mere workman can insult me, and I not be avenged on 
him and his ! But this, after all, is only a secondary 
question, to which I should attach very little import- 
ance, if I did not see in this person a very serious 
obstacle to our designs on Andrde. And, supposing 
that the girl has run away, and that the Rajah’s mil- 
lions are lost — and we see neither the Rajah, his 
millions, nor the girl again — what then?” 

D’Albigny, as he spoke, surveyed Nana from head 
to foot. 

“If Andree has been saved,” he continued, “her pre- 
server can only have been the Rajah; and, if he has 
escaped with his life, I wonder where lie is, and why 
he has not come here to communicate the result of his 
search. Luke witnessed the violence of that man 
(Andree’s so-called father), and we can easily find 
another witness to affirm that he entered your room by 
the window. If I, to-morrow, accuse him of having 
taken away any of your jewels or papers, who will 
hesitate between the accusations of the Marquis 
d’Albigny, and this man’s denials? He has every 


nana’s daughter. 


231 


interest in denying, and I have none in accusing. 
Even if his innocence be finally established, the fact 
that he has been once suspected will alwa 3 ’s adhere to 
him, his reputation will be tarnished, and he will lose 
his position at the manufactory. I ask nothing more 
for the time being.” 

“Very well,” said Nana; “do as you will.” 

“By the way, what have you done with Mulhausen?” 

“ Mulhausen has disappeared. I presume everybody 
thinks that Nana is ruined.” 

“ And she is, very nearly. All that remains to you 
will bring in hardly fifty thousand francs, which, to 
you, means poverty. As to Mulhausen, he will come 
back.” 

“ Do you know what has been done with the horses 
and carriages?” asked Nana. 

“ They are safe in the Park ; but the horses were 
got out with difficulty. The fire has driven them 
wild.” 

“I hoped this part of the hotel would be saved. 
And, now, see, the Salle dC Arme% has caught ! I cannot 
look at this window without remembering how, on the 
night of the ball, I witnessed your duel with Stog, 
from the balcony. I saw your shadows on that curtain 
which has now taken fire ! It was a strange sight, my 
friend. I saw your sword dart out, and then Stog fell. 
His death, 1 believe, has brought me ill-luck — ” 

“ Oh ! my dear, it is only old women who are super- 
stitious.” 

“Yes, but don’t you see. — Ah! look at the flames! 
Evidently we shall save nothing but our skins, and bit- 
ter days are in store for us both. If you desert me, I 
shall die like Cleopatra, for I will not live in poverty. 
I prefer anything to that — even death ! ” 

“Let us say as little of death as possible. Volun- 
tary death is capitulation, and we don’t propose to 
capitulate.” 

The Are now opened like a fan, spread by an invisible 
hand. The firemen, discouraged by the futility of their 
efforts, stopped and folded their arms. The roofs in the 


232 


NANAS D A U G 11 r i: l i 


/ vicinity were kept wet to save them from the sparks 
and flames. 

Every window vomited fire, and, as a last piece of the 
roof fell in and a chimney suddenly lurched forward, 
there was a shout : 

“ Look out ! Look out ! ” 

There was a fearful crash, above which rose the 
agonized shriek of an unfortunate man who was over- 
whelmed by the avalanche of hot bricks. 

“My dear,” said Nana calmly to the Marquis, “there 
is nothing more for us to do here ; there is nothing left 
but the land. Let us take a fiacre and go to an inn.” 





N A N A ’ S D A U G U r K U . 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 


ANDREE VISITS THE SICK. 


M onsieur LUCIEN DESPRETZ had no knowl- 
edge of the fire which destroyed Nana’s H6tel — a 
direct punishment from Providence, as it seemed. 

Returning from the Naviels’, Madame Despretz could 
not conceal from her son her uneasiness in regard to 
Andr^e, who had not yet appeared, but there was a 
tinge of bitterness in her words which offended him. 
Lucien could not refrain from protesting in the name 
of his sentiments for Andr^e. 

“ Dear mother,” he said, “ I am young, pray let me be- 
lieve. This morning I was jealous, which I regret more 
than I can tell you, because but for that, Andree would 
never have gone to see her mother and I should not 
have met the Marquis. Now, however, war is declared 
between that man and me, and I will kill him, or he 
me.” 


“ Lucien, if you have the smallest love for me, if you 
do not wish me to die of grief, you will not do that. 
You will remain with your mother, who loves you with 
all her heart, for you are her only hope, her only con- 
solation on this earth, where all else is weariness and 
disappointment. I have told you very often that I 
have had many sad hours ; my path has been sown with 
treason and watered with tears. I loved a bad man — ” 
“ Yes, mother, but try and forget the past.” 

“But I have more to say, Lucien, and now that you 
are about to marry, you must be told all that I have 
labored to conceal from you. This mail was not my 
husband.” 

“ Dear mother, I have suspected that, but do you 
think I respect you less for all you have suffered ? ” 

“ But you may suffer in your turn. When Andree 
learns the truth, it may be that she — ” 


234 


nana’s daughter. 


“ If Andr^e be capable of throwing me aside for such 
a reason, I should cease to esteem her. Only cowardly 
hearts, and hard ones, can reproach an honest man for 
the sorrows of his mother and the villainy of his father. 
Yes, if Andr^e should desert me for this motive, far 
from regretting her, I should rejoice that I was enlight- 
ened in time in regard to the true value of her prom- 
ises. Fortunately, however, I fear nothing of the kind. 
Andr^e is a generous girl, and a trifle romantic. When 
I say to her — ” 

“ Promise me you will say nothing at all to her before 
you are compelled to do so by the necessary formali- 
ties of your marriage. I had hoped that this secret 
would be forever buried between us. The day of your 
marriage, Lucien, another woman will blush more than 
your bride, and that woman will be your mother ! It 
is not strange, therefore, that I should wish you to 
remain as you are. I dread, too, that your filial love 
may be weakened by a new affection ! ” 

“ I will say nothing to Andrde if such be your wish. 
I will suffer in silence — silence is often a falsehood.” 

“ I have been wrong, dear Lucien, in speaking to you 
of these things, for you are worn out. Rest now, my 
son, and endeavor to sleep. If you suffer, or if you 
cannot sleep, call to me, and I will come.” 

“ No ; rest, sweet mother, you are very tired from all 
the events of the day. I will sleep now, and don’t be 
uneasy, for I am not suffering.” 

She kissed him gently on his brow, and, after arrang- 
ing his pillows, passed into the next room, leaving the 
door open between, in order that she might hear should 
he call. 

The invalid tossed and turned for a while, but toward 
midnight he fell asleep, and did not wake until eight 
o’clock. The day was bright and cheerful. A lovely 
summer’s sun shone into the court-yard on which 
Lucien’s room opened. Three sparrows chirped on the 
window sill. 

A sharp ring at the bell awakened Madame Despretz, 
who hastily rose to open the door. Andr^e Naviel 


nana’s daughter. 235 

rushed in and threw her arms around the neck of 
Lucien’s mother. 

“ It is I ! ” she cried ; “ how is Lucien ? ” 

“ He has slept well, and in two or three days will be 
on his feet again.” 

“ Can I speak to him ? ” 

“ Of course — ^the bell has roused him.” 

“Shall I go in?” 

“Yes, my dear; go in while I light my fire.” 

Andr^e entered the sick room and approached the 
bed. Without alluding to their quarrel of the day 
before, she said : 

“ Has your mother told you how nearly I came to 
perishing ? ” 

“You! Great Heavens! What happened?” 

“After your quarrel with that villain d’Albigny, I 
was forcibly detained in Nana’s h6tel.” 

“And how did you get away? Who released you?” 

“ The fire.” 

“ In Nana’s hotel ? ” 

“All is destroyed, and this woman is probably 
ruined, for I am told that nothing was insured ! ” 

“And you were &hut up in that house?” 

“ I was, indeed, and was forgotten I think, at first. 
Finally I was rescued by one of Nana's friends, the 
Rajah. He carried me in his arms through the smoke. 
We finally reached the Salle d" Armes^ which being in a 
wing, the fire had not then reached. The Prince 
opened the window and leaped down into the Park. 
Soon after I saw him come back with a ladder. It was 
in that way I escaped both imprisonment and death. 
But Lucien, I feel as if these dismal adventures were 
only the harbingers of others with which I am unwil- 
ling to associate you. I am too just not to see that the 
son of a good woman cannot marry Nana’s daughter. 
I come, therefore, to restore you your liberty.” 

“ You came for that, Andree ? ” 

“Yes, I thought it more loyal not to allow you to 
connect me longer with your future. I have reflected 
much on this point, and I see clearly that I ought never 


236 


N ana’s daughter. 


to marry. Any husband, however humble he may be 
in origin, would have a right to despise me for mine.” 

“No, child, a thousand times no. It is not like you, 
Andr^e, to say that ; men are not so base as you fancy. 
A girl is not punished nowadays for her mother’s faults, 
and if there is a person in the world selfish or thought- 
less enough to be guilty of such meanness, it is not the 
man who wished to make her his wife.” 

“.You have abetter opinion of that world than it 
deserves, Lucien. Believe me, I have suffered greatly, 
and the day will surely come when you would regret 
having married the daughter of such a mother. Then 
you will rejoice that we remained as we are.” 

“ Very well, Andr^e, say no more. If you do not 
wish to marry, so be it. The reason you give for the 
change in your wishes I will accept as the true one.” 

“ Your words imply a doubt.” ‘vVl/U' ^ - 

“ Yes. I do doubt, for I can’t bmteve that for such 
a preposterous reason you would condemn me to death, 
for that is what it amounts to.” 

“ You make mje miserable, Lucien. I assure you that 
I am so crushed by a sense of my own unworthiness 
that I—” 

“I am the best judge of that. If you refuse to 
marry me now, I shall believe that you are infatuated 
with the Rajah or the Marquis. In that case, what 
would become of me? I should go mad probably, or 
I might commit a murder, for what would life be 
without you?” 

“ Can you suppose that I do not love you ? Ah ! 
ingrate, I would like to leave you with this idea, but I 
have not the courage. You might be happy then, and 
I could die in peace.’ 

“ You love me still ! You should not say, ‘ I have 
reflected,’ but ‘ I have not reflected I ’ I hold you to 
your word. I close my eyes and my ears. I will hear 
neither reasons nor explanations. You are Nana’s 
daughter, are you? Very well, and what then? I 
respect you no less to-day, since I have heard this, than 
I did yesterday. I love you; will you be my wife?” 


nana's daughter. 


237 


“You will regret, Lucien, not having listened to 
my advice. But I am weak, and yield to your entrea- 
ties ; we will marry, since 3^11 wish it. But if ever 3mu 
utter one word of reproach, I will never forgive you.” 

“Andr^e, my poor child, what words of reproach 
could I possibly make use of? Do you take me for a 
cowardly scoundrel ? And now, my dear, we will be 
married in a fortnight. You will soon be convinced 
that you did wrong when you called yourself unworthy 
of me.” 

“ I will go awa}^, Lucien, and let you dress now.” 

She stooped over him that he might kiss her brow, 
as he had been in the habit of doinor since their en- 


gagement.- But he drew her down to him and kissed 
her pretty mouth. . She turned her head awaj" quickly, 
but she could not escape. 

Madame Despretz came in at this moment, and stood 
on the threshold looking at them with a desolate sort 
of air. 

“Ah! what children you are ! ” she sighed. 

When Andr^e perceived Lucien’s mother, she colored 
deeply and looked prettier than ever. The green light 
in her eyes under the dark fringe of her lashes, was 
like the shimmer of an aqua-marina. 

The young girl drew herself quickly from the arms 
of the young man, kissed Madame Despretz, and, going 
to the mirror, straightened her hat with its wreath of 
roses, and, then, without another word, ran quickly 
away. 


238 nana’s' daughter. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. . 

JARDIN DES PLANTES. 

A NDREE followed the Boulevard Masaz to the Pont 
d' Austerlitz^ crossed the Seine and entered the Jar- 
din des Plantes^ which she crossed diagonally in order 
to take at the starting point the omnibus for Batig- 
nolles. As she passed the elephants, she noticed a tall 
man wearing a turban ; she thought him about the 
same height as the Rajah, who had saved her life the 
night before. 

She was hurrying along with that nervous, quick 
step of a Parisian woman, who trips over the asphalt 
with a motion almost like that of a bird over the 
meadow ; but she moved more slowly as she drew near 
this stranger, who was feeding with cakes, a superb 
elephant, just sent from Asia. 

The animal seemed to feel that he was f^ted by a 
compatriot, for between the two an extraordinary dia- 
logue was going on — the Rajah speaking in Hindoo, 
while the elephant expressed his feelings in a soft, 
trumpeting sound. 

Andr^e at once recognized the voice of the Rajah, 
before she really distinguished his features, and was 
about to pass quietly on, when the Prince turned his 
head. 

His grave face at once broke into a cordial smile. 

“ God is on my side,” he said, “ since He permitted 
me to see you again.” 

His voice was so sweet and so caressing, and, at the 
same time, so completely ^and serenely cordial, that 
Andr^e felt almost as if he were her brother. 

“I am very happy. Prince,” she replied, “that chance 
has furnished me with the opportunity of thanking you, 
because it is to you that I owe liberty and life.” 

“Who was it, then, who detained you in that house? ” 


nana’s daughter. 


239 


“The Marquis d’Albigny.” 

“And by what right?” 

“Nana is my mother.” 

“Nana your mother? Impossible! Does a flower 
grow in a desert ? ” 

“ Why do you speak ill of .a woman whom you have 
professed to admire?” 

“ I did not know you then — I had never seen 
you. There is as much difference between you two 
as between the star and the light-house.” 

“But it is useless to talk to me thus, for I am not 
free.” 

“ Yes, I know ; the Marquis wished to kill your 
jiancS ; and you despise the Marquis, and you are 
quite right. I, however, wish no evil to your fia7icS ; 
on the contrary, I love him because he is dear to you.” 

“ Your heart is of gold, Prince I ” 

“ If it were really gold, you would be rich, because 
it belongs to you. And yet I do not know your 
name. It ought to be as sweet as a nightingale’s song 
on a May night.” 

“My name is Andr^e.” 

“Andr^e! Andrde ! Is that it? Do I pronounce 
it properly? Have I a French accent when I say 
Andree ? ” 

And he nodded his head gently as he repeated it 
over and over again, with his soft. Eastern pronuncia- 
tion. 

A long silence ensued. 

The two walked side by side for some little time, 
slowly following one of the long avenues which led to 
tlie Quai, 

The sky clouded over, a chill, autumnal wind whis- 
tled through the long avenue, tearing oif the yellow 
leaves here and there. 

The cedars in the Labyrinth waved to and fro, like 
huge fans, against the slate-blue sky, where low clouds, 
like gigantic masses of gray wool, were blown wildly 
about. 

From the aviaries came the cries of wild birds, and 


240 


nana’s daughter. 


the roars of the lions were heard, as they paced their 
narrow cages, occasionally stopping to yawn and snuff 
the air. 

From the Seine came an occasional imperative whistle 
from the boatmen, while the rising wind blew all the 
smoke of the factories in a horizontal line toward the 
east. 

Large drops of rain began to fall just as Andrde and 
the Rajah arrived at the foot of the Labyrinth. 

Andr^e had no parasol, nor had the Rajah an um- 
brella. They took refuge under a huge tree — a cedar 
of Lebanon, which is at the foot of the Labyrinth. 
The shower was a brief one, but the wind blew a 
veritable tempest. The trees in the Jardin des Plantes 
bent in the wind, while a flock of crows passed over 
their heads, cawing loudly. 

“ Come nearer,” said the Prince, in Andr^e’s ear. 
“ I am large enough to shelter you from the wind. My 
mantle was not made for rain, still, if you will accept 
the half, it is at your service.” 

“ Thanks, Prince ; I am not cold.” 

“ Tell me — have you only just learned that Nana is 
your mother?” 

“ Yes ; she abandoned me when I was only a few 
days old. I was adopted by the kindest, best people in 
the world. They taught me to work, and to live by 
my toil ; to love all that was good, and avoid the 
bad. My mother has discovered that I am her child, 
and is determined that I shall reside with her, and 
obey her commands.” 

“ Andrc^e, you must never enter that house again ! ” 

“ The fire has settled that point.” 

“ The fire and I — ” 

“ Yes, that is true ; I owe you my life.” 

“And 1 owe you all I have. Listen to me a moment, 
Andr^e. Do you wish to be rich? I have much to 
say to you. I have come to Europe to reside. I like 
Paris, but the climate of Europe is fatal alike to the 
tigers of my land and to the Rajahs. Let me love 
you, with the love of a brother and a friend. I will 


nana’s daughter. 


241 


love those who love you. I will not be jealous of the 
man whom you marry. I will come to see you some- 
times, if you will allow me. My love is deep ; but it 
is patient, because it is eternal. Will you accept my 
, friendship ? ” 

“ I feel absolute confidence in you ; but why did you 
ask me if I wished to be rich ? ” 

“ Because I am alone in the world ; and soon, when 
I go to join my fathers in the starry realms above, I 
will leave my fortune to you and your children.” 

“ But if this climate is not safe for you. Prince, you 
must go away. I could never accept your fortune, if 
you committed suicide by remaining here.” 

“ Should I go, I should die all the sooner. I need 
sunshine ; but happiness is the sunshine of tlie soul ; 
and, but for you, all now would be thick darkness 
around me. Permit me to love you. I will never tell 
you so. My love will be unknown to every one. You 
alone, Andr(3e, will be aware that the soul of an East- 
ern Prince is hung on the golden threads of your hair. 
We two will keep this secret.” 

“ It seems to me. Prince, that you are the friend of 
whom I have often dreamed. But, if I were to say this 
to others, I should be misunderstood, perhaps, and 
even my lover might doubt me.” 

“ Then, he would not deserve to be your husband, 
child.” 

The rain had ceased by this time ; patches of blue 
sky appeared, and the dark, slate-colored clouds were 
drifting swiftly toward the horizon. 

The old cedars waved their wet branches in the 
breeze, and the rain-drops fell upon the turf below. 

Adieu, Prince,” said Andr^e. 

“ When shall I see you again ? ” 

“Not very soon, for I do not wish to be talked 
about.” 

“ I will come to see you whenever you tell me I may. 
But let it be soon, or I shall not live.” 

“ Come to my mother’s and buy some flowers.” 

“ Yes — and you alone will know that I come for your 


242 


nana’s daughter. 


sake. Farewell, now. I shall be in this spot at the 
same hour daily. Here you can find me if you need 
me at any time. If, on the contrary, you prefer to 
write, here is my card, and on it is my address. Au 
revoir^ Andr^e.” 

“ Au revoir^ Prince.” 

She walked away with her light step, her slender 
form as erect as a dart, followed by a gleam of sun- 
shine, which touched her golden hair. 

An hour later she entered her mother’s presence. 
Madame Naviel was waiting for her impatiently. Mon- 
sieur Naviel had gone to the foundry at the same hour 
as usual, in spite of the events of the previous night. 
Madame took the girl’s hands in hers. 

“ My dear,” she said, “ you should have heard the 
truth from my lips. You are not my child, but — ” 

Sobs choked her voice. 

“ I took you,” she continued, “ from the hospital, 
where your real mother — who is Nana — left you. I 
have brought you up as well as I could. Neither 
Naviel nor I have any rights over you, and we leave 
you to decide for yourself in this most momentous hour 
of your life. Remain with us if your heart so counsels, 
or go to Nana — we will not reproach you. Do not stay 
with us from any feeling of gratitude, nor through 
duty. Remain with us only from affection. Now, you 
must decide for yourself.” 

“I have decided, mother.” 

Thank you, dear, for still employing the name that 
has been so dear to us both.” 

“ And to which you alone have any right. This is 
my home, and here I shall remain.” 

“It is well, my daughter. Your heart is better than 
your head, for I cannot always trust your judgment. 
Yesterday morning, now, why did you go to that 
woman’s ? ” 

“ I had a good reason, dear mother ; but we will not 
talk of that now — my marriage with Lucien is decided 
on.” 

“I am very thankful, for last evening I believed 


nana’s daughter. 


243 


that I should never see you again, my poor little 
Andr^e, and Naviel thought the same. When he knew, 
where the fire was, and that you were probably in that 
Hotel, he went off like a shot. It seems that he came 
very near strangling the Marquis. Who was it, after 
all, who saved you ? ” 

“ An Indian Prince whom Nana once bankrupted, but 
who has lately returned to Paris with another fortune. 
Everything he brought from Asia was in the house of 
this woman, and, thanks to me, he saved it, but I am 
inclined to believe that Nana will have none of it.” 

“ And why ? ” 

“ Because she allowed him to see too clearly, that 
she tolerated him only for his millions. She sent him 
into the fire to save them, and now he has an absolute 
contempt for her.” 

“ Ah ! well, my child, these are strange people, with 
whom you had best have as little to do as possible. 
You will marry a good man who loves you, and one 
day will be much like another, full of content and 
happiness. I have grown old almost without knowing 
it. My husband has always been tender and careful of 
me, and I have done my very best to please him. 
After a hard day’s work, or when I was troubled about 
money, I never complained to him, but let him go to 
sleep fretted only by his own anxieties. You see, my 
dear daughter, when a woman has a good husband, she 
is better off than if she had the wealth of the Indies.” 

Madame Naviel was interrupted by a violent pull of 
the bell. 

15 


244 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

F ACE-A-CL AQU^S^ A 

M argot rusKea into the salon, and fell at Andr^e’s 
knees in tears and sobs. 

“ Ah ! Mademoiselle,” she cried, “ a man dressed like 
a lackey in livery is at the door, but I recognized him 
at once — it is the one who arrested me the day of the 
Review. He wants to see you — I am sure he has come 
for me.” 

“ This looks badly,” murmured Madame Naviel, and 
then bade Margot follow her to the atelier. 

Andr^e, who was perfectly undisturbed, said to her 
mother : 

“ Be calm, and let him come in. This man is our 
friend — he is the one whose life my father saved.” 

When Andr^e was alone, Luke came in, lifting his 
hat with its blue cockade from his head. 

“ I come. Mademoiselle,” he said, with preter- 
natural gravity, “to tell you that your father is in 
great danger from the machinations of my master, the 
Marquis d’Albigny — if that be really the name of the 
villain — he may have stolen that as well as everything 
else, though.” 

“ And how can this man injure my father?” 

“ By assailing his reputation as an honest man. He 
will not hesitate to accuse him of anything — of having 
robbed him, of having set the Hotel on fire, or of 
having tried to murder him ; and, upon my word, 
there is no way of proving the contrary on this last 
indictment.” 

Andr^e turned very pale. 

“And what is to be done?” she asked. 

“ I will tell you all I know. In the first place, I come 
to you from Nana and the Marquis ; they are at an inn 
waiting until apartments can be arranged for them. 


nana's daughter. 


245 


They mean to sell the horses and the carriages, the 
lafid where the house stood, everything, in short. They 
are utterly ruined — these excellent people — and I 
think they rely on you to lift them to the top of the 
ladder again. I was bidden to say to you that, if you 
would come quietly to them, they would let Naviel go 
in peace ; if not, the Marquis would file a complaint in 
regard to the wounds he had received, and would 
charge Naviel with an attempt at murder. You see, 
my dear young lady, this looks pretty badly.” 

“ Very well, if the Marquis files a complaint against 
my father, my jiancS will file one against him.” 

“ Excuse me. Mademoiselle, the Marquis would have 
the right on his side in the one case ; in the other, 
where my — ^your JiancS^ I would say, is involved, that 
the young man was assaulted by the Marquis is cer- 
tainly true, but who is to prove this? Besides, they 
will do their best to make Naviel out very different 
from what he is, and the presumptions will be against 
him.” 

“ I cannot and I will not go near that woman again.” 

“ You are right, Andr^e — excuse me for calling you 
Andr^e. You have no idea what you are to me, and I did 
not know myself until a very few weeks ago, although 
I was strangely moved when I first saw you. Nature 
always speaks. Mademoiselle. The Naviels are only 
your parents b}^ adoption. Nana is your mother — but 
who is your father? Do you know? ” 

“No,” faltered Andrde. 

“ Your father is the former Pierrot, the former Face- 
h- Claques^ the Luke of to-day, who has changed his 
name as often as he has his social position. I am your 
father, Mademoiselle.” 

“You!” 

“ Yes. Twenty years ago I was devoted to this 
woman, but she has forgotten me, and although she 
sees me every day, I have so greatly changed that she 
does not recognize me. I tell you this only because I 
wish to prove to you that your marriage must not take 
place. Otherwise I should have continued to conceal 
the useless truth.” 


246 


nana's daughter. 


“You claim to be my father, but that is no reason 
why this marriage should be broken off.” 

“ There is a reason, nevertheless, which I cannot 
give you, because it involves the name of a woman, 
but the fact of your being the daughter of a creature 
like Nana and a worthless vagabond like myself should 
be reason enough for you. You do not yet know who 
and what I am. You see me now wearing a livery, 
and you have seen me in the dress of a policeman. 
I am a policeman to-day, and have been placed in 
Nana’s hotel and service simply as a spy. You pitied 
me when I was a clown, kicked and insulted. But this 
is not all. I have been a thief and an assassin. Yes, 
Mademoiselle, yes, my daughter, your father has robbed 
and assassinated, and, more than that, it was I who set 
Nana’s hStel on fire — yes, it was I, Luke — ! And 
now, if you do not think me entitled to the contempt 
of all honest men, I can only say that I think you very 
extraordinary.” 

“ Why do you tell me all this, if you are my father?” 

“ Why, my child ? Because I know you. You will 
never impose on Lucieii Despretz a wife with such 
a parentage, and will yourself break off the marriage. 
Believe me that this must be done. I am a rascal, but 
I love you. I have not one ounce of honesty in my 
whole body, but I have a heart full of love for you. I 
have nothing against this young man — quite the con- 
trary. I would like to see you happy together, but it 
is impossible — impossible ! ” 

“ I do not believe you — no, I do not believe you. 
One of two things is clear : either you lie when you 
say you are an assassin and a thief — when it is clear 
that some strong interest induces you to lie — and if you 
are what you say, a lie more or less makes very little 
difference to you — or, 3^ou tell the truth when you 
accuse yourself of all these crimes, and you are not 
my father. You, Nana and d’Albigny are in league 
together, and have woven some frightful snare for me.” 

“Can 3'ou think that? Will you not believe that I 
tried to kill Nana, and that I succeeded only in killing 


nana’s daughteh. 


247 


her gorilla ? I wished to protect you from her then as 
I do now. Have I not forbidden you to yield to any 
of their solicitations, and directed you to stand firm 
against all their threats? ” 

“But you oppose, as do they, my marriage to Mon- 
sieur Despretz. Why is this, I ask?” 

“ Because the marriage would be fatal to you in 
this world and the next. Ah ! my little Andr^e, I 
am very miserable. I adored your mother, and yet I 
have tried to kill her three times, and three times the 
arch-fiend has protected his own. Let her look out for 
the fourth. I have planted myself in her home, like a 
worm ill the heart of an apple, to gnaw away the core, 
and I have made a good beginning ! I must go now.” 

“ You told me that the Marquis d’Albigny was about 
to file a complaint against my father, and you came to 
put me on my guard. For that I thank you.” 

“ I have done my best, little Andr^e, to put you on 
your guard, to protect 3^ou and all those who love you. 
I shall continue to do the same as long as I have blood 
in my body. Do you remember that day at Saint 
Cloud? How angry d’Albigny and that woman were 
when I exposed their clever swindle. I began my 
revenge that day and have kept it up until yesterday, 
when I dealt a heavy blow to them. Do you remem- 
ber, too, that I protected you that day? So I shall 
continue to do, and I love you now better than ever. 
I do not ask you to return that affection. I am ugly, 
I am wretched, and I am of low station ; I admit all 
that; none the less, however, am I your father. But 
enough ; 1 am going now.” 

He took three steps toward the door and then came 
back. 

“ Once I ventured to ask you to let me kiss you,” he 
said. “ It was that night in the Park — when 1 left 
you after you had been in the circus tent — we passed 
the gingerbread stall, and then the wooden horses. 
You were small then, and were not ashamed to be 
kissed by old Pierrot, while to-day it is of no use for 
me to call you daughter. But, never mind, I love you 
all the same. I am really going this time.” 


248 


nana’s daughter. 


He went to the door and turned to look once more 
at Andr^e. The sun had come out and was shining in 
the long window. The girl stood just where she was 
oathed in the light. 

Her beauty was resplendent. The transparency of 
her shell-like ears, the gold in her hair, the brilliancy 
of her coloring, and the dainty dimples in her cheek 
were all brought out by this strong light. Her Greek 
profile, the light tendrils of her hair falling on her low 
brow, her straight nose with its sensitive nostrils, her 
red lips, her graceful form, full bust and slender throat, 
her small head and exquisite feet and hands all made 
Andr^e the most perfect type of youthful beauty, just 
blooming into maturity. 

Luke dropped on his knees before her : 

“Oh! little Andr^e,” he exclaimed, “let me kiss the 
hem of your robe.” 

And saying this, he hurriedly pressed his lips on 
Andr^e’s skirt ; then rising, he rushed with all possible 
speed down the stairs, calling back, as he went, with 
the odd, squeaking voice of the clown : 

“ I am really going now. Mademoiselle, really 
going I ” 


nana’s daughter. 


249 


CHAPTER XL. 

THE GRAND HOTEL. 

T he evening of this same day, Monsieur Naviel did 
not return at his usual hour. 

Dinner was placed on the table by Madame Naviel, 
who openly expressed her anxiety at her husband’s non- 
arrival, while Andr^e hid within her own breast the 
poignant terror she had felt ever since her interview 
with Luke, the lackey, who claimed to be her father. 

She cared little for what he had told her about her- 
self, as in reality it in no way changed her position. 
She, in fact, had begun to think Luke a Uttle crazy. 
The lackey did not interest her as Face-d~ Claques had 
done, who submitted to everything like a beaten hound. 

Luke, on the contrary, appeared to have taken ven- 
geance into his own hands. He had become excitable 
and eccentric, and struck her as a person whom it 
would be well to avoid in the future. 

The advice he had given her, however, in regard to 
her adopted father could only have been prompted by 
a knowledge of the true state of things. Consequently, 
when her father did not return, Andrde did not dare 
confide her fears to Madame Naviel. She even affected 
an air of indifference as she said that she would not 
wait any longer, as she had some little business to 
attend to. 

She turned the corner, and at once took a carriage 
and drove to the manufactory where Naviel worked. 
It was nine o’clock Avhen she got there. The heads of 
the house had gone. She found only the overseer, who 
answered her roughly : 

“You ask where Naviel is, do you?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Well ! he is in prison ! ” 

“ In prison ? ” 


250 


N ana’s daughter. 


“Precisely; for having committed a robbery last 
night during the fire.” 

“ It is false ! ” 

“ Zounds ! girl, do you think I don’t know what I 
am saying ? There has been a grand row here to-day, 
but that, of course, is none of my business. I only 
know that he would not have been arrested if there had 
not been a good reason for it. There is no smoke 
without fire, you know.” 

“Where have they taken him?” 

“ To the police court, I suppose.” 

Andree had a sudden idea. 

D’Albigny accused her father of having taken the 
property belonging to the Rajah. 

The Rajah alone could prove his innocence, by show- 
ing that the property in question was his own, and was 
now in his possession. The Prince had given her his 
address that same morning. 

She hastened to the Grand-HStel. 

The Rajah was in his private room, when word was 
brought that Andree Naviel was below and wished 
to see him. 

He at once obeyed this summons. 

“I was thinking of you, Andree,” he said, as he 
entered the reception room. “ I trust it is no misfor- 
tune which has brought you here.” 

“Alas! sir.” 

“ Tell me at once. All that mortal can do to dry 
your tears, I will do. Speak — I obey.” 

“ My father is accused of having taken from Nana’s 
house valuables which belong to you. Now, did you 
not take them yourself?” 

“ Yes, most certainly. Here they are in the same 
portfolio.” 

“ Will you swear this, and release my father from 
prison ? ” 

“ I will go at once. A coupe is at my orders always 
until midnight. It is at the door now.” 

He rang. When the g argon appeared, he said: 

“See that my coupe is in readiness.” 


N A X A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


251 


Then the Rajah left Andr^e alone, while he went to 
his dressing-room to make some change in his toilette. 

The Rajah’s windows looked out on the Place d% 
Nouvel-OpSra. 

From the chair in which Andrde sat, she could see 
the broad with its gilded friezes and its marble 
statues, already darkened by the rains of winter. 

Gilt figures, holding candelabra, seemed to palpitate 
in the electric light. Through the columns of the gal- 
lery, the lustres of the foyer, were to be seen figures 
moving about. 

There was an incessant sound of feet, and roar of 
carriages, and the firm tread of iron-shod horses on 
macadamized pavements, from the Boulevard, 

Andr^e perceived, through the windows, a strip of 
sky between the roofs, which seemed to be held up by 
the stars, instead of golden nails. 

The Avenue de V OpSra was prolonged in luminous 
prospective ; and the gas, diffused through globes of 
polished glass, formed one long line of intense brilliancy. 

Andree was happy in the thought that she should be 
able to deliver her beloved father almost immediately, 
and even, thanks to the Rajah, leave him without the 
smallest stain. She recalled all this good man’s kind- 
ness to her. Her real father could not have evinced 
more tender consideration, more unselfishness, nor bet- 
ter judgment than he. Naviel had done his best to 
imbue her with a love of work ; he had educated her 
to take care of herself; he had shown her the inevita- 
ble result of indolence and waywardness. She felt a 
generous delight in knowing that she had prevented 
her dear mother from feeling unnecessary anxiety ; for, 
from her childhood up, Andree had given her many 
shocks. 

The Rajah soon appeared, and Andrde at - once 
noticed a change in him. His whole face expressed 
suffering; about his lips was a certain resigned bitter- 
ness. His eyes had grown larger and more brilliant. 

“ You do not look well, Prince,” said Andree. 

“ Do I not ? I am not well. I raised considerable 


252 


naxa’s daughter. 


blood this afternoon, and really thought I was going to 
die, and now my cheeks seem all on fire.” 

“You must leave Paris.” 

“Never! In life and in death I remain here. I 
wish to be interred at Montmartre, on the height which 
overlooks this most beautiful city. If during my life 
my love has in no way added to your happiness, after 
my death it will, for it will enable you to do good to 
those whom you love.” 

They now took their seats in the carrriage, and 
drove off to the police station. A half hour later they 
alighted on the outer Boulevard^ before a door, over 
which hung a large, red lantern, on which were the 
words, in white letters : “ Police Station.” 

The Rajah assisted Andree up the two steps which 
led to a narrow corridor. From this corridor they 
climbed a steep staircase, and entered a room on the 
next floor, occupied by a man sitting at a desk, and, in 
a corner, were two others, smoking, while a policeman 
was walking up and down, before a closed door. 

An indefinable oppression weighed on Andrde’s heart 
as she entered this place, which was but gloomily 
lighted by a lamp, hung from the ceiling — smoking and 
flaring. 

“What do you wish?” asked the secretary, some- 
what abruptly. 

“ I come for my father,” she said. “Monsieur Naviel 
has been falsely accused of having taken certain prop- 
erty last night during a fire — ” 

She caught her breath here, and her agitation com- 
pelled her to stop. 

The Rajah took up her words. 

“ This property,” he said, quietly, “ belonged to me. 
It was in the hands of the owner of the hotel, depos- 
ited there for safe-keeping, and in pursuance of an 
agreement made between ourselves. The greater part 
of these papers have on them my name and my title. 
It is easy for me to identify them both — ” 

“Permit me to tell you. Prince,” answered the sec- 
retary, politely, “that all we hear of Naviel is in his 
favor, while our information in regard to the Marquis 


nana’s daughter. 


253 


d’Albigny, his accuser, is all that is bad. We are 
only awaiting the return of the Judge to set Monsieur 
Naviel at liberty. If you will walk into his private 
office, he will soon be here. There is another affair 
beside this, however.” 

“And what is that?” asked Andrde, quickly, who 
had passed through many conflicting emotions in the 
last few hours. 

“It regards a woman named Margot, who is sup- 
posed to be a florist in your establishment. Do you 
know her?” 

“ Of course,” answered Andr^e, impatiently ; “ she 
is my very best work-woman.” 

“ She came here to beg me to imprison her instead 
of your father, and, as, naturally, we could not 
comply with this request, she insulted us in such a 
manner that we were obliged to shut her up until the 
Judge arrives. He will decide whether she is to be 
released or punished.” 

“ Margot is a spoiled child who is very ignorant,” 
said Andree. “She is devoted to me — so devoted 
that any fancied injury to me drives her wild. It is 
not astonishing that she, knowing my father was here, 
burst into passionate reproaches when she was informed 
that she could not be allowed to take his place.” 

Presently the Judge entered. 

“Release Naviel at once,” he said to his subordi- 
nates. 

Then he muttered between liis teeth : 

“ Upon my word, this d’Albigny is the most atro- 
cious scoundrel I ever encountered I ” 

He seemed to be in a very bad humor. It had been 
raining for some fifteen minutes. He opened his 
umbrella and placed it in a corner, and then took off 
his overcoat. 

The door of the room in which Naviel was had been 
by this time unlocked. 

Andree rushed to meet him, and, standing on the 
points of her toes, she threw her lovely arms around 
the bronzed neck of the engineer, and kissed him over 
and over again. 


254 


nana’s daughter. 


Then she remembered poor Margot, and, going up to 
the Judge, she said to him: 

“You have here, sir, one of my work-women — a 
somewhat impulsive, headstrong creature, who is so 
attached to me, that when she heard my father was 
here, she came to ask permission to take his place ; 
and, when these gentlemen informed her that this was 
impossible, she became very vehement. I beg 3 ^ou, sir, 
to restore her to liberty, and I assure you she shall 
do nothing of the kind again.” 

“What did the girl say?” asked the Judge, turning 
to the secretary. 

“Not much, sir. We only kept her to give her a 
lesson.” 

“Very good. Now, send her here.” 

Margot soon appeared, her cheeks still red with the 
color which anger had imparted to them, her eyes 
flashing and her hair in disorder. 

The magistrate said, in a tone of great severity : 

“ Are you the person who permitted herself to insult 
these men ? ” 

Margot was about to reply with considerable vehe- 
mence, but Andr^e made her a sign, and she dropped 
her head. 

“ I warn you not to be guilty of a similar folly 
again. The next time I shall send you to the House 
of Correction. Now, go.” 

On the sidewalk the Rajah held Andr^e’s hand a 
moment, and took leave of her in these words : 

“ You need me no longer. I leave you with your 
father. Be nappy.” 

“ I will call on you, sir, with my wife,” said Naviel, 
“in order to thank you for your kindness.” 

“ There is only one way of thanking me,” said the 
Oriental, “and that is to regard me as a friend, and 
allow me to come to your house sometimes.” 

“We shall be greatly honored, sir,” answered the 
engineer. 

“ And I very happy,” sighed the Rajah, as he entered 
his coup4. 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


255 


CHAPTER XLI. 

NEW QUARTERS. 

A FORTNIGHT after the fire which had destroyed 
the greater part of her property, Nana took posses- 
sion of her new quarters in the Rue de Moscow, The 
furnishers gave a credit of six months, and d’Albigny 
hired an entresol in the same hotel. Nana retained 
Luke and Virginie, sent away her cooks, her footmen, 
grooms and coachmen, and sold her horses and car- 
riages. She thought herself very nearly bankrupted, 
as neither her furniture, her jewelry, nor her H6tel was 
insured. 

The land had been sold, also the materials, and this 
sale brought in about eight hundred and fifty thousand 
francs; but Nana received only half, as d’Albigny 
deceived her in regard to the sale. She, in her turn, 
showed a foolish confidence, and signed every paper 
presented to her by d’Albigny, without examining them 
or verifying them. 

With her previous investments, she had now about 
two millions, and yet she talked of being miserably 
poor, and her parsimony was now as excessive as had 
been her previous extravagance. 

Then, with Nana’s money, d’Albigny attempted sev- 
eral audacious speculations, and lost in three months 
three-quarters of all Nana had in the world. 

Winter passed ; spring had come, and in the month 
of April the notes fell due which had been signed by 
Nana when she ordered the furniture for her new 
apartments. 

D’Albigny had made a private arrangement with 
unscrupulous tradesmen, who, having Nana’s signature 
to bills amounting to fifty thousand francs, while they 
were worth only thirty thousand, gave d’Albigny a 
commission of fifteen thousand when the transaction 
was concluded. 


256 


N A N A ' S DAUGHTER. 


Nana, the night before these notes ^ell due, had not 
more than five hundred louis in the world. She went 
to one of her creditors and asked for an extension. 
The man refused, but offered to take back the articles 
he had sold for two thousand louis on payment of one 
thousand in cash. 

She flew into a passion, called him a Jew, and, 
returning home, wrote to Mulhausen, thus: 

Friend Mulhausen: 

“ To-night I give a little tea. You love music — I 
have a countiyman of yours as pianist, and two or three 
vocalists of my own land. Come, and we will have 
plenty of noise. Always your friend, Nana.” 

Mulhausen arrived, irreproachably dressed, perfumed, 
and his moustache quite formidable in its points. 

Nana was alone. 

When Luke showed in the Prince, she laughed aloud 
at his frightened aspect. The truth was, Mulhausen 
was excessively avaricious, and, having been half 
bankrupted by Nana, had kept away now that she was 
poor. 

He felt instinctively that a trap had been laid for 
him. 

Nana’s salon, well furnished as it was, did not con- 
tain the ghost of a piano. 

But she at once began to chatter to the Prince with 
all sorts of little feminine arts. 

“ You see,” she said airily, “ that I have no other 
guests than yourself to-night — not even d’Albigny. 
Will you have a cigarette?” 

She rang for Luke. 

“ Bring tea,” she said, when Luke appeared. 

Luke came back, bringing tea and cakes, and Mul- 
hausen accepted the cigarette with sulky submission. 
Nana’s insinuating tone suggested a loan to be asked 
for by her. The German Jew characteristics of Mul- 
hausen warned him that he was caught. He had 
learned, moreover, from a banker, a member of his club, 


nana’s daughter. 


257 


of d’Albigny’s successive losses, and had ventured to 
say at a cafJ that “ really d’Albigny was a most com- 
promising person ; and Nana was growing old, no 
longer the shadow of her former self.” 

The truth was, however, that not all of Nana’s anx- 
ieties had changed one thread of her beautiful golden 
hair, for which Mulhausen would once have paid five 
louis apiece, — to silver. But this was in the days when 
she was far more the fashion than now, and since she 
had sold her horses and established herself on an 
economical scale, Nana was to Mulhausen only a 
woman like others. 

“ Prince,” she said, as she filled bis cup, “ you find 
me in a tight place.” 

“ So I supposed,” he answered sulkily. 

“ Ah ! it was so good of you to come ! But, after 
all, my annoyances are only momentary. The Rajah 
wishes me to marry him, and, if I can only make up 
my mind to do that, my affairs will be all right.” 

“I was told,” interrupted Mulhausen, “that the 
Rajah was quite mad about that Naviel girl who passes 
for your daughter, and who really is amazingly like 
you. It is even said that the Rajah is slowly dying 
because she is to marry some one else.” 

“ I see. Prince, that you are entirely acquainted with 
my family affairs. They cannot be in better hands, I 
am sure, and to prove to you — ” 

“This is. excellent tea, my dear Nana, but your cups 
are not what they ought to be. Where is that beauti- 
ful old Sevres? And how can you receive people 
who respect themselves in an apartment like this. 
How many room have you ? ” 

“ Ten : two salons, a dining-room, a library, a dress- 
ing-room and a bath-room. Four chambers, and above, 
the servants’ rooms — though Virginie sleeps down 
here. I do not like to be alone at night. I have been 
timid ever since my gorilla was killed, when I was 
asleep.” 

“ That is very foolish,” said Mulhausen, rising, as he 
emptied his cup. 


258 


nana’s daughter. 


“Where were you going to-night, in full dress?” 
asked Nana. 

“ First here, and then to one of the Foreign Minis- 
ters’, who gives a soiree, at which I have promised to 
appear.” 

She'rose, and went up to his side. He looked hastily 
behind him, with a vague apprehension. She laid both 
her hands, on each of which shone sapphires, on his 
arm, and looked in his face entreatingly. 

“ Leave your Minister,” she said, “ and remain here. 
We have never got on well together; you did not 
understand me, and I often vexed you when I had no 
intention of doing so, but I always meant you to like 
me, for I have always thought well of you. I have 
always had a share of my friendship reserved for you 
— for you, the best and dearest of my friends.” 

But Mulhausen was perfectly stolid under this rain 
of coaxing words. 

“ I cannot remain any longer now,” he replied. “ I 
will drop in another evening.” 

“No — not another evening; it is this ' very one 
which I wish you to give me. To-morrow, I may be 
dead and you, too, Mulhausen.” 

“ It is impossible for me to remain any longer. I am 
due elsewhere this very moment.” 

“ Then, Prince,” she said, sinking into a chair. “ I 
will not detain you. I will only keep you long enough 
to ask a word of advice.” 

“ And about wluit ? ” 

“How I am to pay two thousand louis to-morrow, 
when I have not 6. quarter of that amount.” 

“ Mortgage gome of your property, of course.” 

“ D’Albigny has bankrupted me absolutely. Every- 
thing has been lost at the gaming table. 1 have one 
house worth five hundred thousand francs, but I cannot 
raise forty thousand francs on this house between now 
and to-morrow, you know ? ” 

“ Pawn your jewels, then.” . 

“But that is ruin! Cannot you, dear friend, lend 
me this sum ? ” 


nana’s daughter. 


259 


“I could, if I had it, but I have not a quarter of it. 
I was nearly bankrupted* by you sometime ago, and 
this is all I can do for you, now.” 

He took five louis from his pocket, and laid them in 
one of the saucers on the table. 

A brilliant color fiushed Nana’s face. She started 
from her chair, and snatching the saucer threw it, the 
gold and the cup half full of tea which were in it, full 
in the face of the Prince. 

He stood, absolutely stunned by her violence, while 
Nana rang the bell. 

“Bring this gentleman’s hat and coat,” she said 
to Luke. 

“ With pleasure,” muttered Lujce, as he passed into 
the ante-room. Presently returning, he helped the 
Prince to put on the overcoat. 

When he was ready, Mulhausen extended his hand 
to her, but she, turning her back, said to Luke, as she 
pointed to the gold on the carpet : 

“ Pick that up ; don’t you see the Prince is waiting 
for it ? ” 

Mulhausen buttoned his coat, to give himself the air 
of doing something, and also to conceal the stains of 
tea on his once immaculate shirt front. He made his 
retreat, while Luke picked up the gold. 

Nana threw herself on her sofa, still in a rage, her 
white teeth grinding, one on the other. 

Although it was spring, she had lighted a fire, and 
the red reflections glanced upon her pretty feet in their 
high-heeled velvet slippers. Wrapping her black satin 
peignoir more closely about her, she clasped her 
hands under her head, and deliberately contemplated 
the coming storm. 

Her jewels had cost one hundred thousand francs, 
and she dared not hope to pawn them for more than 
two-fifths of their value. 

She soon came to a decision. She would pawn them 
all the next day, unless d’Albigny — 

She would go first and see him. 

16 


260 


NANAS DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

THE NEXT MOVE. 

D ’ALBIGNY’S apartments consisted of eight or ten 
rooms, all hung with blue Cretonne. 

The furniture was scanty and excessively simple, 
offering a strong contrast to the former tastes of the 
Marquis. His bed was a low iron one. And in his 
sleeping-room were only a divan covered with Cretonne, 
like the hangings, a leather chair and a secretary. 

The largest room was the Salle d'Amies^ decorated 
with four or five pairs of swords, as many sets of foils, 
masks and gloves — that was all. 

A carpet of gray felt covered the floor. 

These rooms were entirely empty. D’Albigny had 
no servant. He never took a meal in his apartment, 
breakfasting at a restaurant or with Nana. 

It was he who opened the door when she rang. 

“Is anything the matter?” he asked. 

“ Nothing, except that I am threatened with a seiz- 
ure of my furniture.” 

“ I expected as much ! Come in — come in. The first 
note, I believe, was given for the furniture, was it not?” 
“Yes; precisely.” 

“And you have no money?” 

“None, whatever.” 

“Neitlier have I. You know all my affairs well 
enough to be sure of that.” 

“So I supposed. Therefore, it was not for money 
that I came ; it was for advice. Shall I pawn my 
jewels ? ” 

“ By no means ! Place all you have of value here, 
with me — your jewels, furniture, etc.” 

“ You are full of resources. Marquis.” 

“ The worst that can happen is to have your notes 
protested. The owner of this house will pay herself 


nana's daughter. 261 

when she finds you don’t pay, and your other people 
will take the rest.” 

“Then, I have left only a house, that is to say a 
half million. When that is gone, what then ? ” 

“ I have a proposition to make. Suppose we stake 
all that is left — lose it all, or double what we have. 
Have you the courage ? ” . 

Nana did not reply, and d’Albigny began to pace the 
room, he thinking in what way he could best impov- 
erish her, as she had impoverished so many others. 

“ And Mulhausen, what did you do with him ? ” 

Nana looked at the Marquis, with a satirical smile. 

“What should I do with him?” she asked. 

“ Take him into partnership, my dear. I am think- 
ing of publishing a theatrical journal, of which Mul- 
hausen shall be editor. To obtain this position he will 
willingly advance money. I will make him see the 
various advantages he will reap from it. My German, 
who would not give a kreutzer to a former friend 
reduced to poverty, will put his last sou into an affair 
of this kind. We will look about for some needy 
and clever literary men. They may do the work, and 
we will do the managem-ent. We will give dinners, 
balls, etc., and let the company pay the bills. All Paris 
will learn to know us, and possibly to dread us. We 
will publish all the society gossip of the day, and you 
will see that we will make a good thing of it.” 

“ And what will you call the paper ? ” 

“We will decide on that later, for the name is of the 
first importance. We must find something which will 
amuse the people and stimulate their curiosity. As to 
Mulhausen — ” 

“ I have seen him to-night. I sent to ask him to 
come, that I might tell him how I stood, and ask a 
favor of him.” 

“ Of course, if you told him that, he did not come.” 

“ But I didn’t. I took good care that he should not 
suspect why I sent for him, but my first words put him 
to fiight.” 

“A woman like Nana borrows only when on the 
wane, and Mulhausen — ” 


262 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


“ You know him thoroughly, d’Albigny. This man 
has neither heart nor courage. Will you believe that 
he had the audacity to offer me five louis. I threw 
them in his face.” 

“ You did well. Now is your time to claim your 
Andr^e. She belongs to you, insist on your rights. 
Would it be disagreeable to you to play for her benefit 
the part of a repentant woman? You must sepa- 
rate her from that young man. This gossip about the 
Rajah and your daughter you can make useful. You 
can play one of these men against the other. Before 
long there will be a shock: one of the two will be 
crushed, and we will not trouble ourselves to put the 
pieces together again. Courage and audacity are what 
you need now. Go boldly to the Naviels and claim 
Andr^e. If she is deaf to your prayers, throw yourself 
at her feet, kiss her, weep, sob, and tear your hair; 
that will do wonders. I wish I could be there to 
applaud you, for I am certain that you would be as 
beautiful as Sarah in Hernani^ as Favart in Marion 
Delorme. You have played the parts of Marion and 
hlarguerite on the world’s great stage, with a magnifi- 
cence which has won for you the hatred of your rivals, 
and the admiration of your adorers. You must do 
battle, my dear, with evil fortune, with indifference and 
oblivion. A woman like you should die when young 
and beautiful, in some grand role supremely played, in 
which she should draw tears from the most skeptical 
eyes. Come, now, walk down the room ; let me see 
you move.” 

Nana obeyed. Her long peignoir swept after her in 
a rustling train, with soft undulations, with lights and 
shadows in its shining folds. 

She laughed with a ringing laugh as she rehearsed 
her silent role. 

“ Good ! ” he exclaimed. “ Superb ! Bravo ! ” 

He applauded. 

“ Perfect ! Wonderful. That look of haughty pride 
becomes you well. Go on as you have begun, my dear, 
and when you want your hStel rebuilt you will have 


naka’s daughter. 


263 


no difficulty. It must be done. D’Albigny is nobody 
without Nana’s hotel. I am not recognized at the 
club nor at the Bourse, and I am hardly noticed on 
the Boulevard. This can’t go on. We must make one' 
grand, final effort. Come, now, let us sell everything 
out that we have ; let us take another hotel, entertain 
handsomely, and live as of yore for another year. I 
will undertake to keep things going that long.” 

“And then?” 

“ Before the end we shall have found some reliable 
source of wealth. Once upon a time your eyes 
shamed your diamonds ; now, your diamonds will cause 
your eyes to be admired ! Then, too, remember you 
have Andrde, for have her you must. Do you under- 
stand me ? I insist on it.” 

“ I will try, but I shall not succeed.” 

“ What day will you make the attempt ? ” 

“ To-morrow.” 

“Very good, and do not speak of the Mont de PiSte 
again. A woman like you has nothing to do with that 
institution.” 

Nana felt greatly encouraged by the determination 
of this man, who was the fire in the infernal locomotive 
which had for twenty years carried her successfully 
through her mad career. 

“I thank you, Marquis,” she replied; “you shall 
have a power of attorney from me to buy and sell as 
you will, and we will live one more year as we have 
lived many. At the end we shall find either success or 
a ditch by the wayside. To-morrow I shall go for 
Andr^e, you understand. If she will not come, woe 
on her and those about her. I shall find some way to 
revenge myself! ” 

“ You are right, my dear. Now, take my advice, and 
get a good night’s rest. You must take care of your- 
self. 1 will think over our plan.” 

“ Good night. Marquis.” 

He bowed over her hand with courtly grace, and his 
kiss concealed a cold, sarcastic smile. 

She left the room. 


264 


nana's daughter. 


Then, d’Albigny, rubbing his hands, murmured 
under his breath : 

“We shall gain a year in that way I The five hun- 
dred thousand francs will have a merry dance, but no 
more speculations, it is a risky game to play. What a 
farce life is, and what fools we meet every day of our 
lives ! I wish, though, that I had been able to shut up 
that brute of a Naviel for six months. As to the 
petite^ if she comes within my reach, I will teach her 
that I am not to be trifled with ! ” 

He began to smoke a cigar now, sitting at the open 
window. The stars were out, and toward the Saint- 
Lazare station a fan of light opened out. Along the 
facades opposite were many lighted windows. Occa- 
sionally a slender hand would part the curtains, and a 
graceful feminine head would peer down into the street, 
hoping to recognize the step of the person for whom 
she was waiting. By degrees, every light was extin- 
guished and every casement closed, except one just 
opposite on the fourth floor. 

When the Marquis felt the heat of the cigar under 
his long moustache, he tossed it away, and dropped the 
window, muttering : 

“ A plague on all the Nanas ! ” 


NANA’s DAUGUTEli. 


265 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

CAM ELIAS AND KOSES. 

N AVIEL did not choose to return to the foundry 
where his arrest had taken place, and he sent in a 
request to be appointed as engineer on one of the rail- 
roads. His appointment kept him in a state of anxious 
expectation all winter, during which time he remained 
much at home, talking little and smoking a great deal, 
sad at being of no use to those whom he loved, and 
humiliated to the bottom of his soul that he had been 
suspected. 

As to Lucien, his recovery had been slower than he 
had hoped it would be. He was not able to resume 
his duties until a month after his injuries, and when he 
got to his desk he found his place taken by another 
man. 

The winter, therefore, was as sad to him as to Naviel. 
The women, too, were not prosperous with their 
trade. They sold few flowers. The German importa- 
tions, the supplies sent out from the convents affected 
them very much: a certain restraint existed now 
between the Despretz family and the Naviels. 

It was necessary to wait several months before 
the expenses of the marriage could be met. Andr^e 
was willing and yet unwilling to make a change. The 
words, uttered by the man whom she refused to call her 
father, had produced a profound impression upon her. 
She had not been able to pierce the mystery in which 
he had encased his declarations. She felt that there 
was some mystery which might yet destroy all her 
hopes. In spite of this conviction however, she had 
gotten together her bridal toilette. Her white dress 
was ready, and also her wreath of orange blossoms. 
She kept them in her wardrobe, enveloped in tissue 
paper. 


266 


nana’s daughter. 


Luke had not been again seen at the Naviels’. Lucien 
spent almost ever}^ evening with them, ami when by 
chance he failed to come, by reason of other engage- 
ments, he wrote an excuse to Andr^e. 

The Rajah called on Andr<^e in the afternoon, his 
physician having forbidden him to go out after, sunset, 
but he did not come very often. Whenever he did, he 
brought to the young girl a bouquet of camelias, and 
then took a chair in the atelier with his back to the 
light, glad to see his shadow spread over the table and 
play on the swift-moving fingers of the fair florist. 

The beauty of the 3^oung girl seemed to him to- 
increase daily. She wore her hair, which had a natural 
wave from the parting, swept back and fastened in a 
knot low in the neck behind, where it was held by two 
aluminum pins with large heads. 

The work-women sat at a table in another corner, 
where they chatted in an undertone. The Rajah spoke 
little, for fear of saying too much, and spent every pre- 
cious moment in contemplation of Andr^e. 

One day she wished to show him how to make a rose. 
He paid so little attention to her instructions, or it ma}^ 
have been the indolence inseparable from the Asiatic 
character, which prevented him from accomplishing 
anything that looked like a flower, as the petals were 
within, and the stamens without. 

‘‘ If I were poor, I should die of hunger,” he said, in 
a tone of disgust. 

Andr^e tried to console him for his failures. But he 
suff'ered mentally as much as he did physically, and the 
least contradiction reacted on his nervous nature. 

An inward fever consumed him. His black eyes 
opened under their heavy lids, blazing with hidden 
fires, but he restrained any verbal expression of his 
feelings. 

In the beginning of April, Monsieur Naviel received 
his nomination as an engineer in the Qompagnie de 
V Ouest^ and Lucien Despretz was made cashier in the 
office of a great Journal, with a salary of three thousand 
francs. 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


267 


All was rejoicing in the Naviel mansion. Andr^e’s 
fete day was the first of May, and the evening before, 
Lucien, finding himself detained by his monthly ac- 
counts, wrote that he should not be able to see her until 
the morning of her fete. With this note he sent a 
bouquet of big white roses. 

That evening, by an unusual chance, the Rajah 
appeared, preceded by an enormous bouquet of orange 
flowers and violets. The work-women had all brought 
flowers to the Naviels also. 

The salon was crowded with them. The Rajah 
looked thinner and sadder than ever. 

He said to Andrde as he entered : 

“ When are you to be married ? ” 

“Very soon.” 

“I shall go to the Mairie^ 

“ You?” 

“Yes, in order that I may see you happy.” 

“ I hope to be so, because I love my fiancS.^^ 

“ You are right; he is good and honorable. Did you 
receive my flowers ? ” 

“ Your bouquet is marvellous. I thank you, but 
you have forgotten to wish me many happy returns.” 

“May I kiss you?” he asked. “I have been told 
that the customs of your land permit it.” As he spoke, 
he kissed her very gently on her eyelids, and then sank 
into a chair near her side. They were in the salon and 
alone. 

“ I think I am better,” he began. He then stopped 
and listened, and then standing up, said: 

“ Some one is about to knock at your door I ” 

The words had hardly passed his lips when the bell 
rang. 

“Are you expecting anyone this evening?” he asked 
in a trembling voice. 

“No,” said Andr^e uneasily. “I expect no one.” 

“Not even Nana?” cried Nana aloud, as she swept 
into the small salon, and bore down on Andr^e at once. 

Mademoiselle Naviel rose from her chair. 

“ You less than any one,” she replied. 


268 


nana’s daughter. 


“ Nevertheless, I wish to speak to you.” 

“ Go on, Madame.” 

“ That which I have to say must be heard by you 
alone.” 

“No, Madame, we have no secrets, you and I. You 
have come for some purpose of which I am ignorant, 
and it is, therefore, best that my parents should be pres- 
ent. I will go for them.” 

Nana was left alone with the Prince for a few minutes. 

“ I congratulate you. Prince,” she said abruptly. 

“ Congratulate me ! And on what ? ” he asked with 
haughty contempt. 

“ On your choice. I am glad your preferences do 
not go out of the family.” 

“ You mistake, Madame, I am your daughter’s friend. 
She does not love me.” 

“Of course not — I — ” 

“ Oh ! you — ” 

“ I know what you would say : that I am a most 
contemptible woman.” 

“ I should not have employed so many words to 
express the same idea. Now, however, I have said all 
I wish to say. I shall not speak to you again.” 

He rose from his chair, and with arms folded under his 
Indian mantle, and with head bowed, he began to pace 
the room, awaiting Andree’s return, who presently 
appeared with Monsieur and Madame Naviel. 

“My parents consent to listen to you with me, 
Madame,” said the girl, with a firm voice. “Speak 
at your ease then.” 

“ And I will go,” said the Rajah, “ for nothing con- 
cerning this woman interests me.” 

He bowed low before Mademoiselle Naviel, and 
saluted her adopted parents, passed Nana without look- 
ing at her, and left the house. 

Then Nana rose. She looked excessively weary. 
Her cheeks had lost their color and had grown thin. 
On her discolored lips was a bitter smile. Her brow 
formerly so smooth and fair, was now covered with fine 
wrinkles, which were not entirely concealed by the 
waving hair which fell to her eyebrows. 


NANA’s DAUGHTER. 


269 


She went np to the young girl, and, looking at her 
intently, stretched out her hand to take that of the 
girl. Andr^e drew it back hastily. 

“ It is useless, Madame,” she murmured with an 
emotion she vainly endeavored to conceal. “ You came 
here to speak to me, and will abstain, if you please, 
from demonstrations which would be out of place here 
— sa}’’, as soon as possible and in the fewest words, what 
you wish to say.” 

“ I came for you, my daughter.” 

“I am not surprised; you have accustomed me to 
your audacities.” 

“ Do you forget what I am to you ? ” 

“What you are? Ah! that matters little. You 
gave me birth, it is true, but another woman has ful- 
filled a mother’s duties toward me. You threw me on 
the cold world, you deserted me at that moment, you 
detest me now. I believe that you are leagued with 
your companions to draw me down to your level. If 
I am not as degraded as yourself, it is certainly not your 
fault, nor that of the Marquis d’Albigiiy. How dare 
you speak of what you are to me? Do you wish me to 
despise you more than I do now ? ” 

“ Notwithstanding all you can say, you will not pre- 
vent the truth from being the truth. Ask your parents, 
if you call them so, if you do not believe me.” 

“ They have told me the truth, and I have told my 
fianeS^ for I was afraid he would be disgusted with a 
marriage on which I had set my whole heart. But I 
believed it to be my duty to let him judge for himself. 
My fiance was not deterred, however, by knowing that 
I had in my veins the blood of a woman like yourself. 
All men would not have been equally confident.” 

Nana threw back her head at these stinging words. 
She felt her cheeks tingle with a smart long unknown. 

“ Mademoiselle,” she said in a sharp voice, “ 3'ou 
have no right to insult me, and if others should do so, 
it was your duty to protect me. If you have been 
taught otherwise here, then you have been badly 
brought up, for the first of all duties is respect for the 
woman who risked death to give you life.” 


270 


NANA S DAUGHTEK. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

A MAGDALEN IN TEARS. 

O, Madame,” interposed Naviel, “we have not 

1 1 brought her up badly. We have done all in our 
power for her, both my wife and I, we have taught her 
how to earn her bread honestly by daily toil, and we 
have given her the example. When chance threw you 
in our way, and the child asked who you were, I 
replied as I thought : ‘ That woman is thoroughly 
despicable.’ And yet I knew the child was yours, 
for I was told so at the hospital. It did not prevent 
me. however, from taking her to my home, because I 
believed all turned on the way of bringing up a child, 
and I think I have done well by this one. The girl 
has rewarded us, her mother and myself. By Tier 
mother,’ you of course understand that I mean the 
woman who has given her a mother’s care and felt all 
a mother’s anxiety. All this proves that it is the 
clearest nonsense to say that we can’t get rid of the 
effect of original surroundings. You are here now, so 
please make haste and explain why you came, as we 
have no time to waste in hearing you talk.” 

“I have just told you that I came to claim my 
daughter, as I have a right to do.” 

“ No, Madame, you have neither right nor law on 
your side. You have endeavored by force to keep this 
young creature in your house, but you shall never take 
her from us — at least, not as long as she refuses to go 
with you.” 

He turned toward Andr^e, as if to question her. 

“ You know very well, dear father, how 1 feel,” she 
answered. 

“ Andr^e, listen to me I ” exclaimed Nana. “I can- 
not endure your contempt and your hatred. I have 
been very wretched — ” and she fell on her knees before 


nana’s daughter. 


271 


her daughter — “ yes, I have been very wretched. I 
deserve all you say to me ; but to hear these words from 
your lips is a punishment greater than I can bear. I 
suffered every privation before I fell into this life I 
have led. I never had, like you, good examples 
before me ; I did not grow up, like you, under good 
influences. As long as I was young, people adored me ; 
now I am growing old, and these very people would 
none of them lift a Anger to save me from starvation. 
Even d’Albigny, for whom I have done so much, even 
he—’’ 

“ You have only what you deserve, Madame,” said 
Andr^e coldly. 

“ I deserve all this, I know ; but I do not deserve, 
Andr^e, that you, my own child, should believe all these 
people say against me.” 

“ I can only say what I think, when you insist on my 
replying to you.” 

“ And if your harshness extinguishes in me the last 
glimmer of penitence, if your words push me back into 
the career from which I hoped with your aid to 
emerge, would you not be responsible for all I may 
do in the future ? Come to me, Andrde, watch over 
me, save and help me! We will reverse the order 
of nature ; you shall be my mother, and will teach me 
to work. Come to me, Andr<ie! I am not easily 
moved to tears, but your contempt and your hatred 
have brought them now to my eyes. Come, I implore 
you ! ” 

“ I have no faith in your tears ; your new-born love, 
your sudden affection, and your spasmodic repentance 
SLve but acting. If it i& only for this that you came 
among people who do not like you, and have no reason 
to feel kindly toward you, it would have been better 
had you remained at home, and it would be wiser for 
you to return there at once, now that you know my 
sentilnents.” 

Nana had risen to her feet by the time that Andr^e 
had flnished speaking. Her nostrils dilated with anger. 
She was beautiful once more under the influence of 
excitement. 


272 


nana’s daughter. 


She laughed scornfully, and, pointing to the flowers 
with which the salon was filled, said : 

“For whom are all these tributes? For this hard- 
hearted young girl ? This girl, who has robbed me of 
the Prince who has just left here ! How gratified the 
dear Lucien must be with the wife he is about to have. 
I hope I may see him in order to congratulate him on 
his fiancSe^ 

“ Go away, Madame ! leave this house ! ” exclaimed 
Madame Naviel, white with anger. And Nana, holding 
her head very high, walked out of the door. Then she 
turned, and said in a loud voice : 

“ You will hear from Nana, before long ! ” 

“ And you, if you ever do any harm to Mademoiselle, 
will hear from Margot ! Rely on that ! ” shouted the 
florist, as she opened the street door for this most 
undesirable visitor. 

Nana did not condescend to turn her head, but 
slowly descended the stairs, raising her train with her 
old haughty grace. 

The next morning Andr^e rose at her usual hour and 
went to her work. 

It was a lovely morning in May. The tender green 
of the young leaves glittered in the sunshine, which 
poured into all the windows of the salon, now filled 
with the delicious odor of fiowers. Andr^e threw the 
casement wide open, and the soft, sweet air, and the 
joyous sounds of the birds among the trees, all lifted 
the weight from the heart of the young girl. 

As the morning advanced, Andr^e began to feel un- 
easy at not seeing Lucien, and began to suspect some 
machinations of Nana’s. 

She had no idea, however, of the thunder-clap in 
store for her. 

At noon the concierge brought her a letter, which 
she at once, by the address, knew came from her lover. 

This envelope enclosed two letters, one from Nana 
addressed to Lucien Despretz, and the other from 
Lucien to herself. 

She opened the first, knowing very well that some 
shock awaited her. 


kana’s daughter. 


273 


This was Nana’s letter: 

“ My Bear Sir : 

“ You did not choose to believe my statements in 
regard to Mademoiselle Andr^e Naviel, and persist in 
your intention of marrying her. I have already told 
you that the Marquis d’Albigny was her admirer. Of 
course, I can offer you no proof of this fact, only the 
word of d’Albigny and myself. 

“ But this is not all. 

“ It so happened on the night of the fire that Made- 
moiselle encountered a person whose dealings with me 
were such that he had placed in my hands a considera- 
ble sura of money. This money disappeared that night. 

“ We at first supposed that Pierre Naviel, the adopted 
father of this young lady, had appropriated these funds, 
*but we now believe that the said Naviel employs more 
despicable means than theft to obtain possession of this 
money — that, in short, he relies on the beauty of 
this girl. That the Rajah yields with complaisance to 
these plots, you yourself can bear witness. 

“ Inform yourself of the hours when the Prince goes 
to see Andr^e, and you will discover that it is always 
when you are not expected. 

“ Yesterday, for example, you were prevented from 
seeing your charming jiancSe^ but the Rajah visited 
her house. 

“ I write you these things because I believe you to 
be as loyal as you are obstinate, and very ignorant of 
the ways of the world. 

“If, however, I am mistaken, and you are fully aware 
of the attentions of the Rajah, you are entitled to my 
apologies, which I at once make, for in that case you 
would be far less scrupulous than I supposed. 

Nana.” 

“P. S. Have not the repeated postponements of 
your marriage had something to do with the Rajah, 
think you?” 

The second letter, that of Lucien, was almost illegi- 


274 


nana’s daughter. 


ble, so hastily had it been written, but it was evident 
there had been an attempt at self-control, and it began, 
with calm dignity: 

“ Mademoiselle : 

“I do not know if the marriage so long looked for- 
ward to can take place — I fear not. Obstacles rise on 
all sides, and denunciations rain down upon me. 

“ It must be admitted that your conduct gives color 
to these accusations. I knew that the Rajah had de- 
serted Nana ; I knew that to you, as well as to her, he 
had offered his fortune. You told me yourself, prob- 
ably to divert suspicions, that he came to Madame 
Naviel’s to buy flowers. I have, moreover, learned that 
you have been seen at the Grand HStel, and also in the 
coup^ of the Rajah. I see no reason why you should 
have made a secret of these details, and am, therefore, 
forced to one conclusion. 

“The enclosed letter informs me that I was replaced 
by a rival who has wealth, while I have none. 

“I see now the motives of the various delays, on 
which you have insisted, of the time fixed for our mar- 
riage. These motives are plain. 

“ Listen to me, Andrde. I have suffered through 
you and for you ever since I knew you. My situation 
has become intolerable. I believe in nothing — 1 almost 
doubt the existence of God ; I doubt the sunshine, all 
because I doubt you. As I told you once before, ‘Tell 
me the truth ; deceive me in one thing, and I can never 
believe in you again.’ I could forgive past faults, but 
not present treachery. 

“ I forgive you all the misery you have caused me by 
your levity and thoughtlessness. I love you, and am 
ready to fall at your feet to implore pardon for this 
letter, which, perhaps, accuses you unjustly. 

“ Oh ! my beloved ! why were we not married earlier ? 
It is now too late, for doubt has come between you and 
me, and you would never again be in my e^^es the little 
saint, the gentle Madonna, of whom I have dreamed. 


nana's daughter. 275 

'Adieu, then, my beloved ! my only love ! for I shall 
never love again. Adieu ! Adieu ! 

“ Always your friend, 

“Lucien Despretz.” 

Pale and with fluttering hands, Andrde had the 
courage to hold the letter and read it to the end. 

When she had finished it she placed the two letters 
Within the folds of her dress, and, calling Margot, said 
in a strange, hard voice : 

“ Margot, bring me my hat and my mantle.” 

“Where are you going?” asked Madame Naviel, 
quickly, from the work-room. 

“ To the Grand HOtel.” 

17 


276 


nana's daughter. 


CHAPTER XLV. 

A DETERMINATION. 

HEN Lucien received Nana’s letter, he did his 



V V best to conceal from his mother the impression it 
made upon him. He was dressing at the moment to go 
to Andr^e, and wish her many happy returns of the 


day. 


He read Nana’s letter twice over. 

This letter announced facts which it was easy for 
Lucien to verify — at all events, those which concerned 
the Rajah. 

It was undeniable that the Prince went to Madame 
Naviel’s, that he carried flowers to Andr^e, and that 
she accepted them. It was also certain that the Prince 
never presented himself there at those hours when 
he was likely to meet Lucien Despretz. He had, 
moreover, been there the evening before, contrary to 
his usual habit, Lucien having sent word to Andree 
that he was detained at the counting-house. It was 
clear, therefore, that Andree kept the Rajah informed 
of the absences of her lover. 

Crushed under the weight of these doubts, he 
dropped on a chair, with his head in his hands. 

It had often struck him that Andree offered unneces- 
sary obstacles to their marriage, though Madame Des- 
pretz herself, seemed opposed to it ever since she knew 
Andrde to be Nana’s daughter, and still more when she 
heard of the visits of the Rajah, and by degrees tiie 
intimacy between the families had diminished. 

Madame Despretz was greatly depressed, and spent 
days without speaking. She saw no one, and even 
avoided the society of her son. When she saw Lucien 
sitting in this despairing attitude, she ran to him, and, 
tearing away his hands from before his face, was 
startled by the agony she saw represented on every 
feature. 


nana’s daughter. 277 

She snatched the letter which he still held in his 
hand and read it hastily. 

•‘ Listen, Lucien,” she said, as she kissed him tenderly 
on the brow. “ Listen, my son : I have had my doubts 
for some time ; this wretched mother and her no less 
wretched daughter understand each other perfectly; 
that is my conviction. The mother wrote this letter to 
disgust you with this marriage. She wrote it with 
Andr^e’s comsent. They have now more exalted ideas, 
that is clear.” 

“You exaggerate, mother. I believe Andr^e to be 
honorable, though very coquettish.” 

“ A coquettish girl is not honorable ! Believe me, 
she is far less so than the poor girl who falls a victim 
to her ignorance or her timidity. One has no inten- 
tion of doing wrong, the other trifles with evil. Which 
of the two is the most estimable ? ” 

“Not the coquette, certainly.” 

“ You are right. Then, would you marry a woman 
for whom you have no esteem ? ” 

“But, my dear mother, I esteem her greatly. I can- 
not give her up in this way. I mean to know the truth, 
and will compel the Rajah to speak.” 

“ Ah ! me — This woman will certainly bring you to 
your death. Have you not lost your position through 
her? Have you not already been nearly killed on her 
account? Am I no longer of any consequence to you? 
Will you consider neither the pain nor the anxiety you 
cause me? Ah! that miserable Nana. Why did she 
write to you and disturb you? You wish to speak to 
the Rajah, do you? Very well, then, I will see this 
Nana. For years I have tried to forget her, but she, 
it seems, wishes me to remember. So be it, then. I am 
going to her, and in the presence of this d’Albigny, I 
will tear off her mask and denounce her! And you, 
Lucien, if you take my advice, you will write at once to 
Mademoiselle Naviel to give her back her promise. 
You, of course, will tell her why. If she be guilty, she 
will make no attempt to prove the contrary ; if - she is 
innocent and really loves you, she can easily exculpate 
herself. You have a right to ask from her an undivided 


278 


nana’s daughter. 


heart, you, whose youth has been so discreet. If any 
woman wishes to deceive you, it is your mother, my 
boy, who will unmask her perfidy. You will never find 
another woman, however, who will show you the fidelity 
of your poor mother. A mother, remember, never 
thinks of herself when she loves her child.” 

“You think I had best write to Andrde, then?” 

“ Unquestionably.” 

“ But if I release her from her promise, and she is 
in the right, she will resent my suspicions to such a 
degree that she will entrench herself in haughty 
silence, and all will be over between us.” 

“ So much the better.” 

“You do not love Andr^e.” 

“ Because I think you love her too much ! ” 

“ One cannot love a good woman too much ! ” 

“ One can never forget a despicable woman too soon.” 

“ And if I am mistaken ? ” 

“ Do as you will, but come to some decision at once. 
Renounce Andrde or marry her, whichever you think 
best.” 

“ I will write to her.” 

He had not time to reflect that this letter, written on 
the girl’s fete day, was a graver offence than if sent 
her at any other time, and far more grievous than the 
doubts he had expressed the day of the fire, when 
Andrde would have perished but for the Rajah. 

He wrote the first lines with studied coldness, and 
without having quite decided to send the letter, but as 
he went on, the putting of his emotion into words 
exasperated him, and caused him to write sentences 
which fell heavily on his own heart. 

When his letter was completed, he placed it with the 
one from ^{ana in an envelope, and wrote Andrde’s 
address. 

Madame Despretz had made her toilette meanwhile, 
and was ready to go out before Lucien was. She went 
to say good-bye to him. 

“ Are you really going to see that woman?” he asked. 
“Yes.” 


nana’s daughter. 


279 


“ And wliy ? What is the use ? ” 

“ I wish to have a verbal explanation with her, and 
implore her to leave us in peace.” 

Then, seeing Lucien’s letter addressed to Mademoi- 
selle Naviel, she said : 

Your letter is ready, is it? I congratulate you! 
Now, you belong to me once more, and only to me ! I 
will put it in the box if you wish.” 

Lucien did not refuse. 

It was long since he had seen a ray of joy on the 
worn features of his mother. She threw her arms 
around her son’s neck and kissed him on his brow 
and on his eyelids. “We shall be happy once 
more ; we two will love each other as we once did. Let 
the Rajah alone, it will do no good, and Andr^e will 
merely think that you regret her. I will mail your let- 
ter, or, perhaps, I had best give it to the concierge at 
the Naviels myself.” 

“Put it in the post, mother.” 

“ As you choose.” 

She started off with a far lighter step than usual. 
He dressed hastily and went out shortly after his 
mother. 

Where was he going? He did not know himself. 
Suddenly he thought of the letter he had just written, 
and stopped as abruptly as if he had received a blow 
on the head. This letter would separate him from 
Andree forever. He remembered certain expressions 
he had used, which to the girl would seem little else 
than insults. 

Why had his mother given him no time for delibera- 
tion ? As he thought of the future, the long stretch 
of years unbrightened by her presence, he felt that he 
could not endure them, that life would be intolerable 
without Andree. 

He remembered her as he had first seen her, in the 
loge at the Pouffes, in all the beauty of her fifteen 
years, sweet and simple, unmoved by the enthusiasm 
which Nana had aroused in this crowd of reckless men, 
who saluted in her not so much Nana’s daughter, as 
pure and innocent girlhood. 


280 


naita’s daughter. 


How pretty she was that night in her lilac robe, with 
gloves which, coming to her elbow, covered the dimpled 
beauty of her girlish arms. Her hair was in soft puffs, 
and fell in front over her low Greek brow. 

He saw her again as she looked that spring morning, 
when he first spoke to her of love. 

Detail after detail of that walk, which he had then 
unconsciously noticed, rose before him. He remem- 
bered the gentleman who looked like a Chef de Bureau^ 
who sat reading his newspaper on the balcony, in his 
dressing gown. 

. He remembered, also, how, as they passed the 
Chateau d'Eau^ a little girl had offered him a bunch of 
Persian lilacs. Even this small incident appeared 
clearly before him, while at the moment he had scarce 
heeded it. Why had it returned to him now, after so 
long a period of forgetfulness? 

In his vague retrospective dream, the perfume of the 
lilacs, which in color just matched Andree’s robe, were 
all confounded. 

And now it was finished. The fair vision gave place 
to one with anxious face and hurried mien. Was it 
possible? Was he deceived? 

His mother did not love Andr^e, and that miserable 
Luke, Nana’s lackey, who, of course, was the tool of 
his employer, even he, declared that the marriage of 
Andree with Lucien was absolutely impracticable. 

As to the woman whose letter was the cause of their 
rupture, her opinion was of no consequence, it was 
absolutely without weight ; and Lucien did not take 
the trouble to ask himself what her reason might be 
for writing to him. 

Nevertheless, unconsciousl}^ swayed by Nana’s influ- 
ence, he had yielded to her bitterness against Andree, 
and accorded credence to the calumnies of this unnat- 
ural mother upon her own daughter. 

Mechanically, he arrived at the Jar.d'in des Plantes^ 
all the time revolving these contradictory ideas in his 
mind. He stopped on the Quai^ looking, with fixed 
gaze, on the distant outlines of Ndtre-I)ame, which rose 
against a pale blue sky. 


nana’s daughter. 


281 


Lucien leaned over the parapet of the Quai^ and 
looked down on the gliding water, which here spread 
out to surround the He de la CitS. It seemed to 
Andr^e’s lover that, down by the Island, there were 
reflections in the water of the hue of Andrde’s robe. 

Could he live, haunted by all these memories, and 
not go mad? 

No ; he would go and see if there were no way of 
recalling that mad letter. He ran to the station in la 
Rue Croisatiere^ where he knew his mother must have 
mailed it. He waited twenty minutes, so crowded was 
the office, before he could approach the desk. He was 
too late. The collection had been already made, and 
the letter had gone to the Central Post-office. 

He ran to the Rue Jean-Jacques-Rousseau^ and made 
his statement. From thence he was sent to the office 
of the Department, where he was shown into the Chef's 
private room, and there made to write a facsimile of 
the address which he had placed on the letter. 

He waited there a half hour. 

The CAe/ finally informed him that no such letter 
could be found ; and Monsieur Despretz hastened away, 
without a word of thanks to the excellent functionary. 
He called a carriage. 

^'‘Square des Batignollesf he said to the coachman. 

The concierge at the Naviels’ told him that an old 
lady in black, whom she had often seen before, had 
given her a letter for Mademoiselle Andr^e, and that 
she had herself taken it up to the young lady as 
quickly as possible, and added that a few minutes 
later Mademoiselle Andrde had gone out, without say- 
ing where she was going. 

The evil was irreparable. 

It was clear that the girl was deeply wounded and 
desperate. 

His despair was transformed into jealous rage against 
the Rajah, against the Marquis, against Nana, and even 
against his mother. 

He rushed down to the carriage again, and, leaping 
into it like a madman, he called out to the coachman: 

“To the Crraud-ll'dyJV' 


282 nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

LETTERS. 

T he Rajah was alone in the apartment where An- 
dr^e had seen him when she came to solicit his 
testimony in favor of her father, when he was accused 
of the robbery at Nana’s. 

When the girl hastily entered, he saw at once, by 
the drawn expression of her face, and by its pallor, 
that some sudden misfortune had overwhelmed her. 

“ It is Nana,” he said. “ I recognize her hand. 
Andree, you have been weeping. Do you wish this 
woman to die ? ” 

“ I do •not wish for the death of any one. Prince. I 
am horribly calumniated on your account. Read these 
letters. 

He extended his hand. 

“I need not read hers,” he replied, “for I know only 
too well what it is. Give me the other from your 
fiancSy 

He dropped Nana’s letter on the floor while he read 
Lucien’s. 

“ Poor fellow ! ” he murmured softly, and, before he 
finished, silent tears rolled down his bronzed and hol- 
low cheeks. “ Poor fellow ! ” he repeated. “ And you 
have come, I suppose, to ask me not to see you again ? 
I foresaw this.” 

He gasped for breath, and then continued : 

“ I was wrong. I see it now. All this is my own 
fault. I should never have gone near you. I should 
never have carried you flowers. I am heartily sorry 
for him — sorry that he should doubt you, the soul of 
purity. Each flower that I carried to you told, in its 
own language, that which I dared not say myself.” 

“ I know that you love me, Rajah. Why did I not 
meet you earlier? ” 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


283 


“Why — yes — why? You would have been my wife 
then — you would be my very own to-day, instead of 
receiving letters like this, which break your heart. 
Poor boy ! He suffers, and has written to you words 
which hurt him as much as they wound you. Do you 
still love him ? ” 

“ Why do you ask me that question ? ” 

“ Answer me frankly. Do you love him, in spite of 
all the sorrow he has cost you. Tell me, Andrde, do 
you love him?” 

Hope glittered in his eyes. The fever of his blood 
had dried the tears on his cheeks. 

He hardly breathed, as he awaited Andr^e’s reply — 
his whole frame trembled, as he listened for it. This 
man, whose very silence uttered his devotion, asked now 
whether he was to hope and live, or sacrifice himself 
and die. 

“ You ask if I love him. Prince,” Andr^e replied, in 
a tone of intense feeling. “ I love him only too much. 
I have trampled now on my pride, and come to you to 
implore you to sacrifice your friendship for me to his 
unjust suspicions.” 

“ It is well. You will never see me again under 
your roof. Say farewell for me to your father, to your 
mother, to all whom you love. I am going away. 
Perhaps, time may be given me to return to my own 
land, and die where I was born.” 

“No, Prince, stay here.” 

“And why? I hoped to be strong enough, unselfish 
enough to become a witness of your happiness. I 
hoped to sleep well under your pale skies, and under 
the grass of this country. You see how I long for this 
repose. Why remain, I say, since my presence is the 
cause of your tears, since you do not love me, and do 
love him ? I have no longer courage to think, still less 
to live! What can I do to console you?” he continued. 
“ I offer to go away — I offer to die for your sake. 
From the Laud of the Dead one cannot return, and 
your jiancS will not be jealous of a ghost.” 

As he spoke, he took Andr^e’s hand in his, while 
she wept silently, with her forehead on his shoulder. 


284 


nana’s daughter. 


The tender, respectful words of the Prince touched 
the girl’s heart profoundly, and she felt herself won 
toward this generous nature, which even Nana had not 
been able to change. 

A whole world of new sentiments awoke within her. 
She compared what she felt with all the other affec- 
tions of her life ; but there was nothing similar. She 
had felt a vague sympathy for Face-d- Claques when 
she was a child, and then a tender esteem for Lucien, 
ripening, as months and years went on, into love of the 
best character. 

And for this girl, to be the first woman whom a man 
had loved was a great thing ; and she was vain enough 
to believe that he could love none other than herself. 
Lucien, therefore, had over the Rajah the immense 
advantage of never having had any other love than 
Andree; whereas, the Prince had made himself conspic- 
uous, in the eyes of all Paris, with Nana. He had been 
seen at the opera with her, at the Bois, and at balls."” 
He had been bankrupted by her once, and would 
have been financially ruined the second time but for 
Andr^e’s appearance in his life. 

He at once deserted Nana, and indulged in a 
romantic affection for Nana’s daughter. In the eyes 
of many women, the idealism of the Rajah would have 
seemed ridiculous; to Andree, however, he was per- 
fection. 

The salon in the Grand Hotel where the Prince re- 
ceived Andrde was comfortable, in fact, luxurious, but, 
of course, had no individuality of decoration. The 
furniture, covered with blue satin brocaded with yellow, 
consisted of the conventional number of tables and 
chairs, of a sofa, and an open desk, covered with open 
letters and unfinished replies. 

“ You see,” he said, “ when I wish to write nowa- 
days, I find it impossible. I have not an idea in my 
brain. Six months ago they all took flight, and now 
dwell with you. Say to your fiancS that, as he loves 
you, I leave you to him. If some day you should 
cliange, if regret at having lost me should assail you— 


kana’s daughter. 


285 


But no, it is impossible; it would be too late for you, 
too late for me. If the time should ever come when I 
should discover that he made you unhappy, that he 
took advantage of your goodness to torture you, I 
should come from the dead ; my will would lift the 
earth from above me, and with my skeleton hand I 
would snatch him away. If, however, I were living, 
I would kill him, and bear you away, that I might com- 
fort you. We would go far, far away, toward the land 
of the Sun^” 

Do not talk in this way. Rajah,” she said uneasily, 
at the same time moving a little way from him. “Were 
I to listen to you, I should give reason to my enemies 
for saying evil things of me. We must separate, that 
is clear. You have been a good friend to me. I have 
never had the smallest reason to complain of word or 
act on your part, and am deeply grateful. Write, then, 
to Lucien Despretz that you have learned from me that 
he is jealous of your visits, and that, to prove to him 
that he is wrong, you will cease to visit me. You will 
also add that you have for me a great affection, but 
that you have admired Nana too much to feel the 
same toward any other woman.” 

“ Can it be possible that you, Andrde, wish me to 
write and sign such falsehoods as these? Lying is 
base — I cannot lie! ” 

“ You will lie for me : I shall esteem you all the more.” 

“ I will do as you bid me.” 

“Then write to-night.” 

“ Now, if you desire it. Dictate, and I will write 
and sign in your presence.” 

“ So be it. Prince, I accept. Those who accuse me 
must be confounded.” 

The Rajah threw himself into an arm-chair, which he 
rolled in front of his desk, and took up a golden pen- 
handle enriched with gems. 

“ I am waiting,” he said. 

She at once, began to dictate : 


Dear Sir: 

“I learn wifch extreme surprise that you wish to 


286 nana’s daughter. 

break off your marriage with Mademoiselle Andr^e 
Naviel on m}^ account. 

“I am quite sure, however, that it is needless to tell 
you that my relations with your jiancSe are, and have 
been, simply those of friendliness and courtesy. Made- 
moiselle having rendered me a great service at the time 
of the burning of the Hotel which belonged to her 
mother, I wished to meet her occasionally. I had, and 
have, a very high regard for her, and nothing more. I 
have felt for her mother a devotion which is not yet 
extinct, and which will always prevent me from feeling 
a similar sentiment toward any other woman. I find 
Mademoiselle Andree very charming, but I never lifted 
my eyes to her, as I well knew that she loved another, 
and also that the other loved her. I wish to offer you, 
moreover, what in my opinion is an irrefutable proof. 
If I had for this young lady the admiration with which 
certain people endow me, I should admit no rival near 
my throne, and in that case one of us two would be 
dead ere this. 

“Do not, therefore, consider me guilty of cowardice 
when I tell you that I shall henceforward cease to visit 
this young lady. I do this, only because I know that 
she loves you. If it were otherwise, it would be you, 
who—” 

Andree stopped. 

“No,” she murmured, “I cannot say this to you. 
No offence. Go back to — *I do this only’ — wait, I 
must think a minute. Go on,” she said presently. 

“Love your fiancee as she deserves, and be not 
jealous of a stranger who, far from being your rival, 
would be only too glad to be 

“ Your friend, 

“The Rajah.” 

“Now address it.” 


The Rajah wrote : 


KAN A S DAUGHTER. 


287 


% 


“Monsieur Lucien Despretz — 

“ Rue Croisatiere^ 

“Paris.” 

“ Thanks, Prince ; and now, adieu. I will send this 
to-night and he will receive it to-morrow.” 

“Are you going already?” cried the Rajah. “Oh ! 
do not speak with such cold indifference. I have 
sworn to you that I would like this man on your 
account, and I will do so. Why does this Lucien 
Despretz hate me ? ” 

A gar^on of the Hotel entered suddenly. 

“ I did not summon you,” said the Rajah. 

“ I knocked, Prince, and thought I heard you say 
‘ come in,’ and I did so. There is a tall young man, 
sir, outside, who insists on seeing you.” 


288 


N ana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER XLVIL 

NOTRE-D AME. 

W HEN Lucien reached the Grand Hotel, he asked 
to he shown at once to the apartments of the 
Rajah. A waiter whom he met near the entrance said 
to him : 

“I do not know whether the Prince will see you 
now, as — ” 

“ Go and say to him that I wish to see him on impor- 
tant business.” 

“ What name shall I give, sir? ” 

“Never mind the name.” 

The gar<^on knocked, but receiving no reply he 
entered the ante-room, Lucien following him. 

He heard a man’s voice say : 

“ Why does this Lucien Despretz hate me ? ” 

To whom could this question be addressed except to 
Andr^e? 

He recoiled before this evidence, and dared not take 
another step forward. 

Then his anger boiled to the surface, and pushing 
aside the gar 9 on, who still stood in the doorway, he 
entered the salon of the Indian Prince. 

The Rajah released Andr^e’s hand, which he held in 
his own, and tranquilly went forward to meet the 
young man. 

“Who are you?” he said courteously. “It seems 
to me that I have seen you before.” 

“ I came here, sir, for the proof of a woman’s 
treachery, and I find it.” 

“Not here, sir; there is no treachery here.” 

Lucien extended his hand toward Andree with a 
gesture of accusation. 

“ Lucien, you are mistaken ! ” cried Mademoiselle, 
darting toward her fiance. 


^S'ANA’s daughter. 


289 


“ Mistaken, am I, when I find you in the salon of 
this gentleman? No, I am not mistaken. I have been, 
I admit, but the day is over for that. I have been too 
credulous, stupid, in fact, and 3^011 two have undoubt- 
edly laughed at me many times together. But I am 
not inclined to laugh, I do assure you. The Marquis 
nearly killed me, and I trust that the Prince will 
finish the work with as much speed as possible.” 

“ I have no wish to kill you, sir. A man’s life is a 
sacred thing.” 

“Not so sacred. Prince, .as a woman’s name.” 

“Which is not perilled with me, sir — this girl I 
respect as much as I love.” 

“ You admit her worthlessness, nevertheless ? ” 

“ You shall not use that word in relation to me ! ” 
cried Andr^e. “ I ought to hate you after the insults 
you have heaped upon me. But I have no pride, it 
seems to me ; and, as I am able to exculpate mj^self, I 
choose to do so.” 

Andr^e took the letter which she had dictated to the 
Rajah, and extended it to Monsieur Despretz. 

A long silence followed. 

Lucien, leaning against the wall near the window, 
read the letter. 

The Rajah, crushed by the thought of losing Andr^e, 
sank into a chair. 

Mademoiselle Naviel, standing opposite Lucien, 
waited for him to recognize his wrongs toward her, 
and then to admit them. 

But, as Lucien read, his countenance assumed a more 
and more sarcastic expression. Pain and indignation 
were visible in his face. 

When he had finished the letter, he placed it in his 
pocket, and said to the Prince : 

“ I congratulate 3"ou, sir. The farce has succeeded 
and the comedy has been well pla3"ed. I shall keep 
this letter as a model of duplicity. I congratulate you 
as well as Mademoiselle.” 

“ I pit}'- you, sir,” said the Rajah, “ for 3^our inabil- 
ity to distinguish the true from the false.” 


290 


nana’s daughter. 


“You should pity me still more, sir, for my inability 
to retain the love which was once mine, and of which 
you have robbed me. One of us must leave this place, 
sir!” 

“Yes — I am going.” 

“ So you say in this letter — but your word is not 
enough.” 

“ Why these unnecessary insults, young man ? My 
life is nearly at an end. You may strike the Rajah — 
he will make no attempt to defend himself.” 

“ I do not propose to assassinate you — I wish to meet 
you on a fair field with seconds.” 

“ I shall not do so, for I have no wish to kill you.” 

“ Kill me if you choose, and the sooner the better. 
I will compel you to meet me.” 

“ You must live. You are young, you are beloved. 
It is for me to hate you, but I do not hate you. I 
wish, on the contrary, that you should live happily 
with her.” 

“ With me. Prince ? No, never I Andrde Naviel is 
not to be insulted with impunity. This is the second 
time in three months that this man has wounded me 
more deeply than tongue can tell. It is too much ! ” 

“I doubt you no longer. Your presence here is a 
proof.” 

“ So be it, then. I am yours no longer. I am his 
who knows how to love me — ” 

“ Do not say that, Andr4e — in heaven’s name, do not 
say that!” interrupted the Rajah. “You know very 
well it is not true. You know well that you never will 
be mine, because you do not love me. Such falsehoods 
as yours tear the heart.” 

“I tell you. Rajah, that it is you, not he, who de- 
serve my love. I tell you. Rajah, that I love you 
now, and that I will never again see this man.” 

The Prince leaned forward and put his hand on her 
mouth. He was very pale. 

“ Hush ! ” he said gently ; “hush ! ” 

“I will leave you,” exclaimed Lucien; “but with 
one word of advice, Mademoiselle. Pray select your 


N A N A ’ S D A U a H T E Pw . 


201 


titled adorers better. Neither the Marquis nor the 
Prince are worthy of you — they are both cowards.” 

Andr^e walked forward, and, standing erect before 
Lucien, looked at him with her clear and lovely eyes, 
in whose greenish depths lurked no shadow of pity. 

“ Leave the room, sir,” she said coldly. “ The hour 
will come when you will repent of all that you have 
said here. You will weep tears of blood in that hour, 
because I know you love me — and that knowledge 
gives me strength to punish 3^ou for 3’our unworthy 
suspicions. Leave me now ; I have a friend who is 
kinder and truer than yourself. Go away ! ” 

“ I regret, sir,” said the Rajah, “ that you are unable 
to believe or to understand me. We might have been 
friends — for a brief time, at least, for my physicians 
have given me up. It would be a pity to stake your 
life — which should be a long and a happy one — against 
mine, which can be numbered by days, and which is 
colorless and cold. Come now, sir, give me your hand, 
the Rajah is lo^ml. Wh}" do 3’ou insist that he is 
deceiving you? I repeat once more, and for the last 
time, the simple truth — I love your fiancee^ but she 
does not love me.” 

“ You wish to exculpate in my eyes the woman you 
have admired. You cannot do it.” 

And Lucien abruptly left the room, and presently 
found himself on the Boulevard, amid the busy crowd. 

The soft spring air, the flowers on the corners, the 
light toilettes of the women and the coming and going 
of open carriages, containing ponderous looking people 
who were talking bourse or theatre, went to make up a 
very gay scene. Lucien crossed the Boulevard and 
entered la Rue de la Paix, From thence he reached 
la Place Venddme^ went down la Rue Castiglione^ and 
crossed the gardens of the Tuileries. 

Under the century-old chestnut trees, groups of 
children were playing, superintended by nurses in long 
white aprons. 

A military band was playing the overture to William 
Tell^ and the shrubbery all over the turf was in bloom. 

18 


292 nana’s daughter. 

Flocks of sparrows disputed the crumbs thrown them 
by shabbily dressed people, whose misanthropy did 
not seem to intimidate the birds, however. The 
dark outlines of the half burned Imperial Palace rose 
like the ghost of a bitter Past beyond the gardens, 
where spring had flung out its green banner over the 
ruins. 

Lucien hurried over the Pont Royals not knowing 
where he was going, but goaded onward by a vague 
wish to escape the Past. The rapid Seine, with its 
delicious rippling and rustling sound, seemed also to 
have assumed a new livery in honor of the spring, and 
on its breast flecked with golden sunshine the velvety 
green of the trees on the Quai were reflected, the long 
lines fading away in the distance. 

He took the street running by the Quais^ and as he 
passed Notre-Dame^ he suddenly conceived the idea of 
entering it.' 

A supreme consolation awaited him, perhaps, under 
the vaulted roof. The grand fa(^ade peopled by statues, 
its columns and arches, the high gallery and its ogives, 
and its rose windows, stood between two colossal 
towers, crowned by fantastic gargoyles, whose grimac- 
ing profiles peered out through the mist rising from 
the river. 

A door was open on the left. 

The young man entered among the shadows of the 
naves where daylight rarely penetrated, and where cold 
silence reigned, disturbed only by the beadle moving 
the chairs. 

The deep shadows of the organ loft surrounded the 
entrance, and soft Hints from the stained glass windows 
flooded the church further on, while in the damp 
chapels, diml}^ burning lamps watched over the sleepy 
prayers of some old women, who, with half closed eyes, 
repeated Latin words without in the least understand- 
ing them. 

Slowly, a peaceful calm fell on the soul of the young 
man. The odor of incense soothed him, and he felt 
the vague devotion of a child. He advanced toward 


kana’s daughter. 


293 


the choir when he was stopped by a Swiss, who said 
to him: 

“If you wish to make the tour of the church, sir, it 
is a franc.” 

Lucien was indignant at the system which changed 
this magnificent church to a shop, the servants 
attached to the church to vulgar exhibitors of curi- 
osities, and the grand cathedral to a booth of relics 
at a fair. 

The brief alleviation, afforded him by the tranquil 
shadows of the church, was dissipated. He went away 
and soon found himself near the Morgue. His depres- 
sion increased. 

“What is the use of living?” he said to himself; 
“ it seems to me that it were far better to lie cold and 
still on one of these marble slabs ! ” 

And, leaning over the parapet of the Quai^ he mutely 
questioned the rippling waters below. 


294 


nana's daughter. 


CHAPTER XLVIIL 

THE MEETING OF TWO WOMEN. 

J UST as her son entered the presence of the Rajah, 
Madame Despretz rang at Nana’s door. Luke 
opened it. 

He did not appear to recognize Lucien’s mother, and 
as he showed her into the salon he said : 

“Whom shall I announce, Madame?” 

“ Adele Despretz,” was the cold reply. 

“Deuce take it all!” he muttered, as he went to 
notify Nana. “What on earth can she want here? 
She is quite capable of saying to my worthy employer 
that I, her -servant, should be dismissed from this house 
at once. But I do not choose to go. I have not 
finished with these people yet.” 

He knocked at Nana’s door. 

Virginie was dressing the hair of her mistress. 

“ Who wishes to see me, did you say ? ” 

“A lady — AdMe Despretz — I informed her that 
Madame was very much engaged, and could not 
see her.” 

“ On the contrary — show her in.” 

Luke, whose manners and costume were both irre- 
proachable, preceded Madame Despretz to show her in. 

Nana’s new sleeping room was furnished with low, 
cushioned chairs, covered with black satin ; with an up- 
right piano, over which was a Louis Quiiize mirror ; a 
table of black pear wood, and in a corner an ebony bed, 
very simple in form, under a canopy of yellow bordered 
with black. The portieres of the room and the 
curtains matched the canopy of the bed. 

The wardrobe, with mirrors of bevelled glass, stood 
opposite the bed near the window. The chimney, with 
its mirror and its bronzes, was fronting the piano. 
Near the piano was a door leading into a dressing-room 


nana’s daughter. 295 

hung with rose-colored Cretonne, which opened also on 
the vestibule. 

Nana was seated before the mirror in the wardrobe 
when Addle entered. 

Virginie was braiding Madame’s hair, a portion of 
which still fell over the peignoir of black satin, the dark 
ground showing up its golden lights and shadows. 

“Take a chair, Madame,” she said to Lucien’s mother, 
and, with a haughty air, she added : “ Explain, if you 
please, why you wished to see me.” 

“The explanation, Madame, must be between your- 
self and me.” 

“Virginie, child, make haste and leave us. In five 
minutes, Madame, I am at your service.” 

Virginie finished braiding Nana’s hair, and left it 
hanging in two heavy braids down her back. 

“I can finish Madame’s toilet later,” said the woman. 
And as she disappeared behind the portiere^ she darted 
one piercing glance at Madame Despretz. 

“ Now we can talk,” said Nana. 

“ I have heard much of you, but I have never really 
seen you before,” answered Madame Despretz, “ and I 
now understand that I might easily have been deserted 
for you. And yet I was beautiful once. Sorrow has 
made me what you see me — an old woman.” 

“ Who deserted you on my account? ” 

“ The man with whom you went into the country.” 

“No! Is that really so? How d’Albigny will 
laugh when I tell him I Well, Madame, I don’t think 
you had much to regret. Do you know what 
became of that interesting personage?” 

At this moment the door into the corridor opened 
softly, and Luke’s pale face appeared under the yellow 
portiere, 

“Did you ask, Madame, if I knew what had become 
of him ? ” asked Lucien’s mother. 

“Did you ring, Madame?” inquired Luke at the 
same moment. 

“No, I did not. And do not disturb us again; 
do you not see that we are busy.” 


296 


nana's daughtek. 


“ Excuse me, Madame,” was the meek reply, “ shall 
I arrange your window ? ” And, without waiting for 
an assent from his mistress, Luke entered and closed a 
blind. As he passed Ad^le Despretz, he whispered in 
her ear: 

“Silence and caution. Remember that you must 
protect the good name of your son.” 

“As to the man of whom I robbed you,” continued 
Nana, “ he turned out very badly. He stole from me ; 
he was sent to prison, but succeeded in escaping con- 
viction, I am sure I cannot tell how. For ten years I 
lost sight of him, and then one day I suddenly encoun- 
tered him at a fair at Saint Cloud. He was an out-and- 
out scoundrel, without one redeeming point, and I am 
truly thankful to have heard no more of him in all this 
time.”- 

Luke closed tlie door, but instead of leaving the 
room, he remained hidden behind the yellow portiere^ 
which touched the floor. 

Neither of the two women supposed for a monient 
that he was within hearing. 

“Now, Madame,” resumed Nana, “I do not believe 
that you came here to evoke a remembrance which is 
most disagreeable to me, and which is not flattering to 
either of us. The fact is you have lived a life of 
honest mediocrity, because you have been faithful to 
this man. I would lay any wager that, if you had 
your life to live over again, you — But the truth is,” 
added Nana, “ I do not repent of what I have done, and 
I regret only that it must all come to an end. The 
moral of it all is, you see, that a woman must not allow 
herself to be admired by a poor man. You agree 
with me, I presume ? ” 

“No, Madame, I do not.” 

“ Indeed! Then I confess I am at a loss to under- 
stand you ! ” 

“ A woman’s affection is above all price, and there is 
no more enviable position than that of a happy wife 
and mother. But if a poor girl suffer, the only possible 
excuse is that she was not mercenary.” 


nana’s daughter. 297 

“Yes, but suppose after tins you should be deserted, 
what is left for you then ? ” 

“Work and an honorable independence, Madame.” 

“ But you could not make money enough to provide 
you with food — and if there were a child ? ” 

“ The poor mother must work all the harder while 
he is young ; but when the child grows up, educated as 
he has been in the school of poverty, then it becomes 
his turn to take care of his mother. I did as much for 
my son, Madame ; now he supplies all my wants. It 
is for him, Madame, that I come to ask mercy ; he loves 
your daughter — why interfere with their marriage ? ” 

“ Then you are the mother of the fellow who in- 
sulted me ? ” 

“ He is young, he is madly in love with Andr^e — and 
in revenging yourself on one child you punish two, for 
Andrde loves my son.” 

“ A mere momentary caprice, my dear; she will soon 
get over it. You need not think she loves him as much 
as she says. At your age I should not suppose you 
would be very romantic, and you really ought to side 
with me against these two children, although I shall 
have no difficulty in preventing this marriage by my- 
self. Nana’s daughter must not marry.” 

“Alas! I fear your course in calumniating your 
child in order to disgust my son, will only augment 
their love and lead to some catastrophe. Had you seen 
him when he received your letter ! Let them marry, I 
implore you. Let them lead quiet, peaceful, and 
respectable lives. I have not much faith, Madame, in 
happiness, but it may be that there is such a thing ; 
and, if so, it is to be found in a domestic life, rather 
than in this one like yours. Remember, Madame, that 
most women who live like you do their best to keep 
their daughters in ignorance of the fact, and send them 
out ' of reach of all evil influences. Do like them. 
My son is honest and true. Give Andrde to him ; 
he will watch over and guard her from every evil. 
I assure you that I am in deadly terror of some mad 
act on his part. 1 beg of you not to further trouble 


298 


nana’s daughter. 


the peace of these young creatures. Notwithstanding 
your letter, I wish to believe in your daughter, and to 
respect her as the wife of my son.” 

“ Tut ! Tut ! This is all nonsense ! I repeat to you 
that this little simpleton must not marry. I liave 
other views for her, and I will never give my consent 
to this preposterous union.” 

“ Very well, then. I will simply observe that Andr^e 
owes no consideration nor obedience to the mother who 
deliberately handed her over to public charity.” 

“ If Andree does not obey me, I have means to com- 
pel her.” 

“You will be the cause of her death.” 

“What of that? I had rather see her dead than 
living in squalid poverty.” 

“ But my son is doing very well, Madame, and your 
daughter far more than earns her bread.” 

“ That may be, but I wish her to do far more than 
that. I wish to see her admired by men of rank and 
position, and not by salaried clerks.” 

“ I see that my mission has not been in any degree 
successful. There is justice above, Madame, and I 
assure you that your bitterness against honest and in- 
dustrious people will be some day punished, and your 
pride will be abased. Already your ruin and that of 
the Marquis d’Albigny has begun. Old age will soon 
be upon you, for though you conceal your gray hairs 
and your wrinkles with amazing skill, I can yet see 
them. You will soon learn the value of the professions 
of those about you.” 

“ I think, Madame, as we seem to have nothing more 
that is agreeable to say to each other, and as I wish to 
speak to the Marquis d’Albigny, I will beg you to 
excuse me.” 

She leaned forward and rang the bell. The door 
immediately opened and shut again, and Luke came 
forward. 

“ Say to the Marquis that I wish to see him at once,” 
said Nana. 

Luke bowed. 


nana’s daughter. 299 

Madame Despretz rose and said with dignified sad- 
ness : “ I yield my place to him, Madame.” 

She went out, followed by Luke, who walked down 
the stairs at her side. 

When they were alone, Luke, addressing Madame 
Despretz, said: 

“ Put a stop to this marriage, Ad^le. Nana is right. 
You know that Andr^e and Lucien are — ” 

“ I know what I know. The children wish to marry. 
They love each other.” 

“ I do not understand you, Ad^le.” 

“ I dare say ; but I do not require your approbation. 
Believe me, it is better for you not to meddle with this 
affair. If you do, I will reveal at once to this house- 
hold whom you are.” 

“ I have done all I could. I shall say no more. I 
have no fault to find with you, Adele, while toward 
you I have acted miserably. If you forgive me, you 
will, indeed, be merciful. Listen to me a moment. Tell 
no one who I am. I Avill punish the woman who made 
you siiffer and the man who assaulted your son.” 

“ If you do both these things, I will forgive you.” 
And, for the first time, she extended her hand. He 
held it with a firm, close pressure for a moment, and 
turned away, with a profound sigh. 

Then he rang at the door of the Marquis. 

Madame Despretz was at the foot of the stairs when 
d’Albigny opened his door. 

His face was covered with lather, and in his hand 
was a razor. 

“ Madame wishes to speak to you, sir,” said Luke. 

“ Very good. Tell her I will be there in five min- 
utes.” 

Luke remounted the stairs, four at a time. 

“What does she want of the Marquis, I wonder?” 
he said to himself. “ I am certain that it is about 
Andrde. There is some mischief going on between 
Nana and the Marquis. They have taken a hotel, 
newly organized the household, and now they are 
devising a scheme to attract people here. I shall keep 
my .ears and eyes open, and mar this little game.” 


300 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


He returned to Nana’s door, which he had left open. 

“ Madame will receive a visit from the Marquis in 
five minutes,” he said, respectfully. 

“Very good.” 

Luke waited in the ante-room until d’Albigny came, 
and, when he was admitted to Nana’s room, the lackey 
opened the door noiselessly, and glided behind the yel- 
low curtain. 


nana’s daughteb. 


801 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

A DISCOVEKY. 

W HEN Nana was alone, after the departure of 
Madame Despretz, a sudden idea struck her. 

“ Good Heavens ! ” she exclaimed, “ may it not be 
that Andr^e and Lucien are children of the same 
father. If this is so, then everything becomes easy to 
me.” Exhilarated by this discovery, she laughed 
aloud, as she rose from her chair, and stood before the 
mirror. Her head was a little thrown back, supported 
on her plump, white hands, while the two long braids 
of fair hair fell nearly to the floor. 

The Marquis surprised her in this pose. 
“Rehearsing?” he asked, sarcastically. 

“Yes; I am testing my strength.” 

“You sent for me. Was it to witness your efforts?” 
“It was for the benefit of your advice and expe- 
rience.” 

“Speak! I listen.” 

“Do you know who left here just now?” 

“Not in the least.” 

“Madame Addle Despretz.” 

“And who is she? Is she young?” 

“ By no means. Her hair is white. She must be 
sixty years of age, at least.” 

“ Oh ! Then she is not the person I once knew.” 
“ Did you ever know an Addle Despretz ? ” 

“Yes; she was an old acquaintance of mine. In 
fact, I am rather ashamed of having associated with 
her, and I never made any attempt at seeing her again, 
as I was afraid that I might be seriously disturbed.” 

“ Upon my word, your mystery is quite interesting. 
Tell me the whole story.” 

“And why? No — no — tell me why you sent for 
me.” 


302 


kana’s daughter. 


“ I will tell you in a very few words. This Ad^le 
Despretz is the mother of Lucien Despretz, to whom 
Andrde is engaged. If her story is true in all its 
details, Lucien and Andr^e are children of the same 
father.” 

“ That is odd, upon my word ! ” 

“ Is it not ? At all events, it clears up our diffi- 
culties.” 

“ Yes ; it looks to me now as if Fortune would smile 
once more upon us. Since yesterday, Nana, I have 
accomplished much. I have signed the lease of your 
hotel, interviewed the upholsterers, and done much 
else beside. I intend to have a card-room like the 
old one — green and gold, the colors of the Empire. It 
will bring you good luck. Before a month we will 
have a house-warming that will set all Paris talking. 
I have sent to England for the horses and coachmen. 
We shall have eight horses, two of which shall be for 
the saddle. I will take it on myself to organize your 
household and bring people to your fetes. It will be 
for you, Nana, to keep them after I get them to you. 
But, of course, I can’t do everything — even the intel- 
lect of d’Albigny has its limits.” 

He laughed his short, peculiar laugh. 

“ Very good. Marquis; you will see Nana again in 
all her old glory. Nana is dying in this mediocrity, 
and with all these petty surroundings. We will have 
one year more of life, at least. Marquis.” 

“ No ; hardly a year ; six months at the outside, 
unless — ” 

“Six months?” 

“ Yes. You understand, of course, that the rent of 
the hotel, the furniture, the stables, your toilettes, and 
the fetes that must be given will swallow up at least 
three hundred thousand francs, and only about one 
hundred thousand will remain. If the chances of the 
gaming-table favor us, we shall go on swimmingly ; if 
not, we shall get deeper and deeper in debt. The 
greatest skill will be required in order to retard as 
much as possible the inevitable end — inevitable, that 


nana’s daughter. 


303 


is unless a Rajah tumbles down upon us from the sky, 
or Andr^e returns to us, which I greatly doubt, after 
the manner in which she received you the other day.” 

“ By the way, tell me the story about that Adele 
Despretz, of which you were speaking a little while 
ago.” 

“ As I told you,” d’Albigny replied, “ it is not an 
affair on which I like to dwell. Let me see how I can 
tell it to you. I could not have been more than 
twenty-two. I was a good-looking young fellow, and 
did most things well — spending money freely. I was 
an orphan, without a tie in the world ; and one day I 
happened to see, in a glove-shop, in the Passage de 
V Opera^ an adorable-looking girl. She was a blond, 
with black eyes, or, rather, eyes of a deep, intense 
blue; features delicately cut, and dainty beyond words. 
I enter,ed the shop, and asked the girl to show me some 
gloves, and discovered, in the course of conversation, 
that her day was over at ten o’clock in the evening. 
That same evening I was in front of the shop at ten 
minutes of ten. At that hour a garoon put up the 
shutters, and immediately afterward I saw the little 
woman, simply but exquisitely dressed, come out. She 
had that indefinable charm of a Parisian born, and — ” 

“ Pray, Marquis, do not repeat the description you 
have just given me,” interrupted, Nana. 

“I beg your pardon. At all events, I approached 
her, and asked permission to take her home. She 
recognized me, but passed on without replying. I fol- 
lowed, and renewed my proposition. 

“‘If I should accept,’ she replied, maliciously, ‘you 
would be well punished.’ 

“ ‘ And why ? ’ 

“ ‘ Because I live at Asnieres.’ 

‘T replied, gayly, that I did not care if she lived at 
the North Pole, if I might be allowed to accompany 
her there. 

“ I asked the name of her parents, for she said she 
lived with them, and also her own name.” 

“Excuse me. Marquis, if I interrupt you, but I 


304 


kana’s daughter. 


should be glad to see our new Hotel before dinner; will 
you go with me ? ” 

“ Most certainly.” 

“ Then I will ring for Virginie.” 

“No ; put on your new spring bonnet, and you will 
be charming.” 

“Very good. Go on with your story, while I dress.” 

“ Where was I ? Ah ! near the Saint-Lazare station. 
I took two tickets, and we reached Asni^res at quarter 
past eleven, when I took the return train, having 
obtained permission to call for her every evening. But 
this availed me little ; she wished to marry, and was not 
disposed to trifle. I formed a plan which was worthy 
of a schemer, and after a month of this sort of thing, 
I one evening had a carriage in waiting, and fairly 
forced Adele into it, telling the coachman to drive to 
Asnieres. The end of all this you may imagine. I do 
not care to tell it. I have never seen the girl since, 
for it was an adventure worthy of punishment.” 

“ Probably she never told of it.” 

“ I presume not. I made cautious inquiries and dis- 
covered that about a month after I saw her she had 
left the roof of her parents, and that later she had a 
child. But I never heard whether this child was a girl 
or a boy. And now that I have told you this, I should 
also say that if ever you should repeat it, and use this 
confidence against me, I should at once say that I 
invented it on the spur of the moment.” 

“ y ou have nothing to fear from me, Marquis. It is 
probable that the girl you speak of utterly disappeared, 
and, after the portrait you have given me of your Adele 
Despretz, I see that she has nothing in common with 
mine, who is sixty if she is a day. It is a great pity 
to grow old, but I think it would be an excellent idea 
to kill off all the ugly old women.” 

As she developed this humane theory, Nana entered 
her dressing r6om, and taking up a flacon of green 
crystal, poured some of its contents on her delicate 
handkerchief, embroidered with a huge coronet. 

“Come here. Marquis,” she said, “and I will give 
you some of my delicious perfume.” 


nana’s daughter. 


305 


The Marquis obeyed. 

She threw some of this violet perfume on the coat 
and handkerchief of the Marquis, and then they both 
went down the stairs together. In twenty seconds 
more the sound of their footsteps ceased. Then the 
yellow curtains were drawn aside, and the tall, thin 
form of Luke appeared in the doorway. 

His expression was one of tragic earnestness. 

He looked about the room, and threw up the 
windows. 

“ Let us get rid of this vile odor,” he muttered. 


306 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER L. 

ANDREE’S FAREWELL. 

A DIEU, Prince,” said Andr^e to the Rajah, when 
ix Lucien Despretz had gone. 

She extended her hand to him with cold dignity. 

“All is over between us, then?” he asked. 

“ Unquestionably.” 

“We shall never meet again?” 

“ Probably not.” 

She went away without looking back, and he stood 
gazing after her in the embrasure of the window, with 
his arms closely folded upon his breast. Andr<^e took 
the sidewalk which passed in front of the Grand Opera, 
and turned to the left to reach la ChaussSe-d’’ Antin. 

She walked veiy fast, almost without knowing it. It 
seemed to her that she was no longer of the earth, and 
that between her and all other human beings there was 
now no bond of sympathy. In front of Trinity she 
saw children lying on the turf, while their mothers 
sewed, and pigeons flew from tree to tree with a soft, 
cooing sound. The church was hung with white — a 
white bier covered with flowers was followed hy a long 
procession of women in deep mourning. Andree 
stopped to look on. A strange impression had assailed 
her. It seemed to her that it was her own body lying 
under all those spring flowers. When the procession 
had been swallowed up in the darkness beyond the 
portal, Andree resumed her hurried walk toward Batig- 
nolless. When she reached the house, she found her 
mother very anxious about her. No one asked a ques- 
tion, but all tried to conceal their amazement at flnding 
her so calm. She went to her work and sat still until 
evening, hardly speaking a word. 

Madame Naviel said once under her breath; 

“ It is very odd that Lucien has not come,” 


nana’s daughter. 


307 


Anclr^e replied with a singular laugh : 

“Yes, mother, it is odd, very odd, indeed.” 

After dinner, as there was no pressing work, the 
Naviels went to their own salon, and the work-women 
to their attic. 

Andr^e remained for some time in the salon, lying 
on the sofa. She was utterly worn out. A torpor had 
dulled all her senses. All around her were flowers. 
She wished she could die thus. And why should she 
not? What had life and she to do with one another? 

Without any flxed intention of committing suicide at 
once, she felt a certain vague desire to experiment in 
that direction. She took all the flowers which had been 
sent to her, and piled them on her bed. Orange flow- 
ers, roses and violets were mingled with the bunches 
of lilacs brought to her the evening previous by her 
work-women. She had untied the bouquets, thinking 
that the flowers would keep better loosened. 

She closed the door, stufled the chimney, intercepted 
every possible crevice which could admit a breath of 
air from without, and then she opened her wardrobe. 
Her wedding dress lay there, carefully folded in paper. 
She spread it out upon the chair, and then seated her- 
self in front of her mirror and dressed her hair, allow- 
ing its wavy tresses to fall unconfined to her knees. 
Then she placed the wreath of orange blossoms on her 
head. She was so pretty thus that a faint smile parted 
her lips. Her head ached acutel}", and, compressing 
her lips with the pain, she took off her walking dress 
and short cotton skirt, exchanged her thread stockings 
for open work silk ones, and her ordinary underclo- 
thing for articles of exquisite fineness. Over a long- 
embroidered skirt she put on her dress, which was of 
white faille with a long train, and then stood and looked 
for some time in the mirror. She reminded herself of 
Marguerite in the opera of Famt^ or of Ophelia. 
Turning to her table, she wrote Lucie n’s address on 
an envelope, and began a letter to him as follows : 

“My Friend: You have almost killed me. I now 

ly 


308 


nana’s daughter. 


complete your work. I have no wish to live, now that 
the hope I indulged of sharing my life with you is 
ended. I had no idea that I loved you so much. Why, 
Lucien, could you not have had faith in me? I have 
been true to you and always sincere in my dealings 
with you. It seems to me now, as I look back, that 
there has not been one hour of my life in which you 
have had no share. I remember the first time I saw 
you. I remember the day you went with me to the 
station, when for the first time you spoke to me of love. 
Since then, months and years have elapsed ; every day 
of that time I have learned to love you better. And 
you, Lucien, was it not the same with you ? 

“ You have never known, dear, how much I have 
loved you. I would gladly have cut off my hair and 
spread it on the ground as a carpet for you to walk 
upon. I am not proud now, as you have seen me. My 
eyes are no longer cold and reproachful. I am about 
to die. Shall I suffer in dying? I hope not, for life 
has been to me agony enough. 

“ I have put on my bridal dress and wreath, for I 
want to be beautiful in death. I wish you could see 
me now, as you would have seen me on that happy day 
which you have chosen to throw away. 

“ Why did you listen to calumnies? You found me 
at the Rajah’s, and at once informed me that I had no 
right to be there ; but your letter had driven me mad, 
and, scarce knowing what I did, I hastened to the 
Prince to implore him never to come to my parents’ 
house again, and to see me no more. 

“ I was bidding him farewell when you came. He had 
asked me to become his wife, and promised to make me 
rich, but I refused for your sake. When I saw you, I 
was too much surprised to justify myself. Then, too, 
you would not have believed me. 

“This is why, Lucien, I write to you for the last 
time, that you may know the truth. I have placed all 
my flowers on the bed; they shall be my winding 
sheet. 

“ Ask my parents to forgive me, and bury me as I 


nana's daughter. 


309 


lie, in my bridal dress, and to kiss me tenderly before 
they lay me in my coffin. 

“ I hardly know what I am writing, my ideas are all 
in confusion ; there is a strange sound iti my ears. 

“ Adieu, my Lucien ! —my beloved, adieu ! ” 

Deadly faint, she dragged herself to her bed and lay 
down. The orange blossoms and violets sent by the 
Rajah lay around her face ; branches of lilacs were 
heaped upon her breast, while her face was half covered 
with Lucien’s white roses. Her breath came shorter 
and shorter — her eyelids closed. She dreamed that 
she was happy and rich; that she was married to 
Lucien, and that they lived in a house situated in the 
centre of a forest. Every trivial detail of their court- 
ship arose before her. She could see the level rays of the 
setting sun coming in between the trunks of the trees 
and reflected in a lake in the distance. She stood with 
him under the massive oaks, and breathed the delicious 
odor of dwarf moss and lichens. She felt his kisses on 
her lips, and lost all consciousness. The last sound she 
heard was the clock of Sainte-Marie striking four. 

The lamp went out, and soon afterward a pale light 
came in at the windows and touched the girl’s fair 
brow as she lay among the roses. On the pale face 
was an expression of absolute serenit}^, and on the 
parted lips was a smile of irrepressible joy. Her right 
hand still clasped her white roses ; her left hand lay 
with extended fingers on her breast. 

The clock of Sainte-Marie des Batignolles struck six 
just as there was a loud ring at the door of the 
Naviels. 


810 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER LI. 


lucien’s discouragement. 
EANING over the parapet by the Morgue, Lucien 



JLi Despretz waited for night to come. He stood 
there unconscious of aught but his own sorrows. 
Andrde’s last words, those of the Rajah — the letter 
written by the Prince and every detail of the scene at 
the Grand Hotel came up before him again and again, 
and he gradually awakened to the consciousness that 
he had been guilty of an injustice which his whole 
existence could never expiate. Remorse gnawed at 
his heart-strings — remorse, which at first dull, soon 
became acute. He knew finally that he had set his 
heel on his own happiness and ground it to ashes, and 
with it the name and the pride of the woman who 
loved him. 

He suddenly turned and retraced his steps again, 
passing Notre Dame, and finally reached la Rue de 
Rivoli. 

An hour later he was at Batignolles, 

He rushed to throw himself at Andree’s feet, implore 
her pardon for his unjust suspicions, and beg her to 
consent to an absolute and final reconciliation. 

He entered the house, and asked the concierge if 
Mademoiselle had come in. 

“Yes, indeed, long ago,” was the answer. “You 
can go up ; you will find her there.” 

“ I will be back,” was the unexpected reply. And 
Lucien fled like the wind. When lie reached the Parc 
Monceaux^ which was still open, he seated himself on 
a bench. 

“ You can go up ! ” These words had struck terror 
to his soul. Five short flights of stairs alone had sepa- 
rated him from her whom he had so cruelly wounded. 

No — she would never forgive him. 


nana’s daughter. 


311 


If he returned to present himself before her — it 
mattered little how humble and repentant he might be 
— Andrde would certainly not forgive him. He felt 
himself to be too great a coward to face her resent- 
ment, and wished to hug a little longer the hope of 
forgiveness. 

When the Parc Monceaux was closed, he wandered 
toward the Square again, and when he reached la Rue 
de Rome he followed the railroad track until he reached 
a spot from which he knew he could see Mademoiselle 
Naviel’s window. The window was lighted, although 
it was still early. Andree was not in the habit of 
retiring until much later. 

She might be ill — and his heart nearly stopped beat- 
ing at this supposition. He even said to himself: 
“ Perhaps she is dead ! ” * 

Then he enumerated different methods of commit- 
ting suicide, if he should discover that a separation 
from Andree was inevitable. 

The means were near at hand. He could jump from 
the bridge, and choose a moment when the passage of 
a train would enable him to throw himself under a 
locomotive. A death like that must necessarily be 
prompt. 

He went down toward the railway station, entered a 
cafe, asked for a glass of beer and some letter paper. 

He wrote a few words to his mother, announcing his 
intention and requesting her to inform the Naviels. 

About midnight he went back to the spot from which 
he could see Andrde’s window, in which the light was 
still burning. It was plain that something unusual 
was going on in this room where all his hopes centred. 

He wandered up and down the street, with his eyes 
fixed on this window. Toward morning the light 
was extinguished, and with it his tear lest Andree was 
dead vanished also. 

The morning trains now came whistling into the 
station. The locomotives, with their lanterns still 
burning, whizzed past, enveloped in a thick smoke. 

Now^ that Lucieii was relieved, he trembled lest 


312 


nana’s daughter. 


Andr^e was in danger of death. It must be that she 
was ill, and that her mother had been watching with 
her all night; this explained the unusual light. He 
struggled with himself *as long as he could, and finally 
determined that he would bear this suspense until six 
o’clock. Just before that hour he hurried over the rail 
road bridge and ran to Andree’s door. The lower one 
was open ; evidently Monsieur Naviel had gone. 
Lucien entered, without stopping at the loge of the 
concierge. On each floor he stopped to get his breath, 
for his heart seemed to be in his throat and nearly 
choked him. 

When he reached the fifth floor he looked with abso- 
lute terror at the bell. How often he had pulled it, 
and with what joyous impatience in his heart. 

He listened a moment. The work-women had not yet 
come down. He heard only the heavy step of Madame 
Naviel moving about in the kitchen, and the rattle of 
the spoons and the china she was arranging. Nothing 
unusual seemed going on, and this apparent peace gave 
him a brief courage. 

He rang. Madame Naviel opened the door, and 
said, with evident surprise but very cordially : 

“You are early ! ” 

Andrde then had not revealed to them anything that 
had taken place at the Grand Hotel. This silence indi- 
cated some secret resolution on her part. 

He entered, saying; 

“I am anxious to see Mademoiselle Naviel for a 
moment.” 

“She is not yet up — lazy girl. You can wait for 
her in the salon.” • 

As he entered the room he noticed that the flowers 
were not there. 

He turned to Madame Naviel. 

“ Where are her bouquets?” he asked. 

“I can’t imagine — in her room, I suppose. But it 
was an odd thing for her to do.” 

As she spoke she tried to open the girl’s door, which, 
contrary to lier usual habit, Andr^e had fastened with 

H, holt. 


nana’s daughter. 


313 


“ Andr^e ! Andr4e ! ” called her mother. 

There was no reply. 

The young man felt a horrible conviction of the 
truth. He threw himself against the door ; the bolt 
yielded. Andr^e in her bridal dress, white as a waxen 
Madonna, lay before him, buried in her flowers. 

An open letter and an envelope addressed to Lucien, 
lay on the table. 

He understood it all, and, snatching the letter, took 
it to the window, while Madame Naviel threw herself 
on Andrde, with wild sobs and cries. 

“ Take away those flowers ! ” she said presently, 
“ and do not come back again just yet. Call Margot. 
I must undress her, and you go for a physician ! ’’ 

Lucien gathered up all the flowers in his arms, threw 
them into the workroom, and rushed up the attic stairs. 
Madame Naviel hurriedly took off Andrde’s dress and 
loosened her corsets. She lifted her on pillows, and 
was bathing her temples in cold water when Lucien 
returned. 

Margot came in with cries of despair, and she and 
Lucien began to rub the girl’s white hands with the 
hope of restoring the circulation. 

“ The physician ! Where is he? Why does he not 
come?” exclaimed Madame Naviel. “Go again for 
him, Margot! ” 

Margot obeyed. Lucien began to feel a ray of hope. 
It was clear that Andrde was not dead, for her lips 
were still red. He took a hand-glass from the table 
and held it to those lovely lips, still parted with their 
sweet smile. At the end of a few seconds he took 
away the mirror — it was tarnished. 

“She is living,” he murmured. 

The fresh morning air coming in at the wide open 
window blew in the curtains. He put one arm around 
her, and, lifting her, supported her head on his shoulder. 
She sighed faintly, and moved her lips. Five minutes 
later she opened her large astonished eyes. She saw 
Lucien, recognized him, and sighed : 

“ Lucien ! — my Lucien — ” 


314 


naka’s daughter. 


The faint voice expired on her lips, but her respira- 
tion became more regular, and her feeble pulse grew 
stronger, while on her cheeks came a faint color. She 
raised her right arm with a groan. 

“ Are you in pain ? ” asked her mother. 

“Yes; in terrible pain,” was the reply. 

“Where, my beloved?” whispered Lucien. 

“ In my head,” she murmured. 

Margot appeared with the physician — the same who 
had been called in the day of the accident on the 
Qhamps-ElysSes. 

He listened to what Madame Naviel said, and when 
she ceased speaking, he grumbled: “Yes, that is just 
it — romantic, excitable nature. A dreadful tempera- 
ment to deal with. It is intoxication rather than 
asphyxia. What were the flowers?” 

“ Lilacs, orange blossoms, violets and roses.” 

“ Upon my word, I wonder she is not dead. But I 
believe there is a Providence that watches over lovers.” 

He took her wrist and counted her pulse. 

“Well! she won’t die this time,” he said. “Give 
me some paper, pen and ink, and I will write a prescrip- 
tion.” 

Lucien offered the doctor the quire of paper on which 
Andr^e had written her letter of farewell. 

At this moment Andr^e turned her head. 

“ Am I going to die. Doctor ? ” 

“ No, my child, not if you obey me, and take what I 
order.” 

He rose as he spoke, and, with a bow to the persons 
in the room, retired. 

Madame Naviel went down stairs with him. 

Lucien fell on his knees at the side of Andrde’s bed. 
His hot tears fell on the hand which the young girl 
allowed him to take. 

“Andrde,” he stammered, “Andr^e, will you ever 
forgive me?” 

Her soft eyes filled with tears. 

“ Read my letter, and you will see that I have for- 
given you. — Oh ! Where are my lovely white roses ? ” 


nana’s daughter. 315 

“ Far away from here. I shall never give you any 
more.” 

“ Oh ! yes, you will, but I will promise you never to 
sleep in the room with them again.” 

“ I, too, Andree, thought of dying. I could not live 
without you.” 

He took from his pocket the letter he had written at 
the caf^ near the station. 

“ Read it, and you will see what I said to my poor, 
dear mother. What would she have thought if I had 
never gone home to her again ? I have spent the whole 
night wandering about the streets and watching the 
light in your window. I knew there was something 
wrong here. Oh ! what a night it has been ! We have 
both been a little mad, I believe.” 

Madame Naviel now returned to the room, followed 
by Margot, whom she had sent to the druggist’s with 
the prescription. 

The door bell rang at this moment. Lucien went to 
open it and found himself face to face with his mother. 

“ Do you wish to kill me, Lucien ? ” she asked coldly. 

He put both arms around her neck, and kissed her 
on her soft, white hair. 

“ You love me a little, do you, then ? ” 

“If Tdid not love you, I should not be alive now,” 
he answered with an unconscious falsehood. 

“ And Andrde,” asked his mother, “ where is she ? ” 

“ In her room. She wished to die, and is very ill.” 

“ Poor girl ! Let me see her.” 

Madame Naviel now appeared. 

“Come in, Madame Despretz,” she said; “our two 
young lovers give us a great deal of anxiety.” 

The two ladies crossed the salon to a secluded room. 
Lucien followed them. 

The girl’s face was flushed. She complained of 
headache and of great heat. All day her friends 
watched over her with tender anxiety. Margot 
brought her medicines, and Lucien gave them to her. 

Toward evening, Andree declared that she felt much 
better, and Margot went up to her attic to rest, for she 
had been all day on her feet. 


316 


rasa's daughter. 


When she entered her narrow quarters, she closed 
the door and locked it; then, going to her bed, she 
lifted the mattress, and ripped a small place in the side. 
Her small, glittering eyes sparkled with a cruel joy. 
A yellow light fell from the high and narrow windows 
on her thin face, and brow covered with brown freckles. 

Her hair, which she had had no time to comb, was 
disordered and rough. 

She drew from her bosom a flat bottle containing a 
brown liquid. She spelled out the label, and shivered 
a little, as she muttered : 

“Yes, that will do.” 

Then she hid the vial in the mattress. 


nana’s daughter. 


817 


CHAPTER LII. 

A NEW START. 

S OME days later, Nana and the Marquis were estab- 
lished on the avenue Friedland^ in a small hotel, 
entirely new and very elegant. The stables were on 
the left, and above them a hot-house. 

The rez-de-chaussSe was reached by a double flight 
of six steps. The hall was paved with marble, and 
hung with pictures and statues, purchased at the last 
salon. On the right was a Salle d'Armes^ hung with a 
selection of modern weapons and antique armor. On 
the left was the card-room of green and gold, and back 
of this the library, furnished in old oak. 

On the first floor was the dining-room, in ebony, 
inlaid with silver, and the drawing-room which commu- 
nicated with the conservatory, while between the 
dining-room and salon was a small boudoir. 

The sleeping and bath-rooms were on the next floor, 
and, above, ample accommodations for the servants. 

In three days Nana was entirely settled. Luke was 
now the valet of the Marquis. Virginie still remained 
Madame’s femme de chambre. There was a chef^ with 
two assistants ; a coachman and footman, and the con- 
cierge^ who was to assist Luke in rubbing the floors and 
similar things. 

The fourth day, d’Albigny, having had a great run 
of luck at the club the previous evening, where he 
won ten thousand francs, happened to meet Mulhauseii, 
who invited him to breakfast at the Cafe Anglais, 

As he went out after breakfast, d’Albigny, who had 
sent his orders to the coachman, drove Mulhausen 
round the Lake, in a Victoria fresh from Binder, and 
then insisted on his going home with him to dinner. 

The reappearance of the Marquis at the Bois with 
the Prince made a great sensation. He was welcomed 


318 


NANAS DAUGHTER. 


with a salvo of obsequious salutations, to which he 
responded with considerable haughtiness. 

It was a glorious afternoon in May. The trees and 
turf around the Lake were of the softest, tenderest 
green. Beautiful toilettes and superb equipages were 
to be seen in every direction. The iron-clad hoofs of 
the horses struck firmly on the hard gravel. Silver- 
mounted harnesses glittered in the sunshine. 

White boats, manned by six oars, were on the Lake, 
darting hither and thither. The w\ater splashed up on 
the green margin, where groups of scarlet geraniums 
bloomed in fiery magnificence. Along the shore, in 
the shade of the larches, sat family groups, contem- 
plating the rich equipages that rolled past. 

Sometimes a lady on horseback would emerge from 
the bridle-paths, with her attendant cavalier, and groom 
in the rear. Her floating skirt and veil were soon lost 
in the distance. 

The Guards, in their uniforms of green and silver, 
stood, with folded arms, and watched the lady disap- 
pear, and then, with their left hands on the handle of 
their swords, resumed their slow pacing to and fro. 

“ Listen to me, Mulhausen,” said d’Albigny. “ I 
have decided to profit by my present good luck to 
try another experiment. The Bourse and I do not 
agree. I propose to make an attempt in a different 
direction, and to associate you in my plans.” 

“ Let me hear what they are, first, my dear fellow.” 

“We need a new paper in Paris — ^ journal that 
shall be half theatrical and half financial. You may 
safely invest a hundred thousand francs in this enter- 
prise, which amount is to you, Mulhausen, a mere 
song. You shall be editor, with a salary of twelve 
thousand.” 

“ That is not a great deal.” 

“ No ; but you will have enormous influence. 
You will be the favorite of the Coulisse^ you know, 
and I prophesy for you an immense success among'‘the 
pretty actresses. You will have them all at your feet. 
Prince. Beside that, I propose that a certain column 


X ana’s daughter. 319 

of onr paper shall be devoted to enterprises which — 
well, I wdl call them shady if yon will.” 

“Yes, yes — I see. You certainly are a very clever 
man, d’Albigny. But what part shall you take in this 
new enterprise ? ” 

“ Oh, 1 shall be General Manager ; and, as I under- 
stand much better than you, all questions of finance, I 
shall pay the bills, keep the books, and all that sort of 
thing.” 

“But the theatrical part — who will attend to that?” 

“ Why, you, of course. That is, unless you prefer 
to give a hundred francs per month to a reporter to 
get up articles which you will sign.” 

“But if the journal fails, my hundred thousand 
francs are lost.” 

“ But, with you and me at the head of it, I see no 
likelihood of failure. I will undertake to make it 
thrive on the advertisements alone. If, at the end of 
a few months, we decide that we are not making 
money — if, in fact, we only make our expenses, then 
we will sell out, and you will retire with at least the 
money 3mu put in.” 

“ Your idea pleases me, and I ask only twent}^-four 
hours for consideration. To-morrow, if I decide in 
the affirmative, as is more than probable (because, as 
I tell 3mu frankly, I like the idea), I will hand you 
over the hundred thousand francs.” 

“ And in one week’s time I will have the journal in 
running order. My printers, clerks, reporters — my 
whole staff, in fact, are ready to obey a signal from me 
at this ver^" minute. We will print hand-bills enough 
to carpet Paris from one end to the other. You will 
see, my dear Prince, that I know what I am about.” 

At this moment they reached the end of the Lake. 
The coachman turned to the Marquis to ask for orders. 
“ Home ! ” said d’Albigny. 

They returned through the Bois de Boulogne^ both 
men very silent, slowly smoking the cigars which they 
had purchased, at two francs each, at the QafS Anglais, 

D’Albigny now changed his tone. After having put 


320 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


Mulhausen on the scent of this new plan, he affected 
to hesitate a little as> to whether he should allow 
the co-operation of the Prince. It was out of pure 
liking for him, and a desire for his companionship, 
he said, that he had made the proposition ; but, if 
Mulhausen was disposed to hesitate, why, he had only 
to say so. 

Mulhausen sat reflecting on the many advantages 
which his vanity told him he might reap from such an 
investment of his spare funds. He would be, at all 
events, the manager of a newspaper. He would, to be 
sure, risk a hundred thousand francs, but if failure 
threatened, he could sell out in time. 

As they passed under the Arc de Triomphe^ he said 
to the Marquis: 

“ By the way, d’Albigny, how do you propose to pay 
the salaries of your employes?''’ 

“ By the success of the journal,” answered the Mar- 
quis, confidently. 

“ If you think six thousand francs would be of use 
to you in setting the thing in motion, I am quite ready 
to let you have them. You understand, of course, that, 
if I go into it, it is not with the idea of making money ; 
it is the influence I want.” 

“ Yes, to be sure, I understand that — the right to see 
all the stars first, the right to be their prime favorite 
and minister.” 

He tossed his cigar away, with a laugh that had in 
it a tone of bitterness. 

The Victoria now drew up before Nana’s new hotel. 

The coachman whistled, and the concierge opened the 
gate. The carriage entered the short avenue, went 
half around the lawn, and stopped once more at the 
steps. 

The Prince jumped out first, rather clumsily, while 
d’Albigny followed, alighting with juvenile lightness 
and agility. 

Luke opened the glass doors, and the two men 
entered the vestibule. 

D’Albigny showed the Prince the card-room and the 


nana’s daughter. 


321 


Salle d'*Armes ; then he took his arm and led him to 
the salon, saying to Luke as he did so : 

“ Tell Madame that the Prince de Mulhausen asks 
if he may pay his respects to her.” 

Luke ran lightly up the stairs to convey this message, 
and in the meantime d’Albigny did the honors of the 
salon to his future collahorateur. 

It was in the style of Louis XIII., and crowded with 
furniture. A chandelier of that date hung from the 
elaborately decorated ceiling ; the portieres were of 
old Aubusson, whose faded tints harmonized with the 
brown tones of the oak panels. There were several 
pictures of the old Spanish school, several more of the 
Venetian, and two copies of Rembrandt, one of which 
was la Ronde de Nuit^ made the ensemble^ where one 
Chinese umbrella alone, presented brilliant colors, fan- 
tastic birds and gorgeous butterflies. 

Mulhausen examined everything with the air of a 
connoisseur, but in silence. 

When, however, his tour of inspection was complete, 
he congratulated d’Albigny. 

“It is here,” said the Marquis, “that our winter 
fHes will take place. We propose to give a masked 
ball or two, to which we shall invite the fashionable 
actresses, the press, all the best knqwn journalists and 
artists, in fact, all those persons who have any repu- 
tation in Paris. I leave you to think if that will not 
make a sensation, particularly as we shall herald it in 
advance, and afterward describe and illustrate these 
balls in our journal.” 

“ Yes, precisely,” nodded Mulhausen. 

Nana now entered. 

She wore a magnificent robe of pomegranate colored 
satin, slippers of the same color, lace at the throat and 
on the sleeves, in the creamy whiteness of which her 
velvety hands and rose-tipped fingers were almost lost. 

Flounces of English Point were on the tablier of her 
robe ; a necklace of pale pink coral went twice around 
her throat. 

Mulhausen was fairly dazzled. He went up to her, 


322 


nana’s daughter. 


and taking her hand, kissed it with clumsy grace, say- 
ing as he did so : 

“May I hope to be forgiven, Madame, for many 
delinquencies, and for one in particular ? ” 

“No, no. Prince. It is for me to ask your pardon 
for mistaking a gift to my servant for one to myself.” 

The German took this sarcastic remark as serious, 
and eager to display his wealth and his ostentation, 
hastily replied ; 

“ I intend to put one hundred thousand francs into 
the journal which d’Albigny proposes to start. You 
will, of course, reap the benefit of this act.” 

Nana with difficulty repressed a smile, but dissimu- 
lating her amusement she turned away, and said to 
D’Albigny : 

“What is this journal of which our friend is 
speaking? ” 

“You will find out later, Madame, when things are 
well started ; it is now a secret between Mulhausen 
and myself.” 

Then, turning to the Prince, he added : 

“Women. are all alike; they always want to know 
everything.” 

“ Ah ! I can guess. It is some financial enterprise 
in which d’Albigny wishes to interest you, Mulhausen, 
but I have a friend whom I would like to enter this 
speculation instead of you.” 

“It can’t be done, though,” answered Mulhausen, 
beginning to fear that Nana’s vengeance would induce 
her to use her influence to keep him out of this jour- 
nal. “The Marquis made this proposition to me, I 
accepted it, and it is all settled now ! ” 

“ It is quite certain,” said d’Albigny, in an author- 
itative tone, “that you cannot interfere with our 
arrangements. I have in my mind a series of combina- 
tions peculiarly advantageous. It is quite- natural that 
I should propose to Mulhausen, who has always been a 
good friend to me, that he should go in with me.” 

“ Precisely ! ” said Mulhausen, who now posed like 
a connoisseur before the copy of la lionde de Nuit, 


nana’s daughter. 


323 


“ That is enough ! You have said enough,” whis- 
pered d’Albigny to Nana, while the Prince had his 
back turned toward them. 

“ Madame, dinner is served,” said Luke, appearing 
in red silk stockings and a black coat. 

Mulhausen turned around quickly and offered his 
left arm to his hostess. They passed into the dining- 
room, followed by the Marquis, Luke holding the 
Aubusson portiere aside with the tips of his long, thin 
fingers. 


324 


nana's daughter. 


CHAPTER LIII. 

A NEW ENTERPRISE. 

I N another week the journal was ready to appear. 

It was called simply the Gazette des Coulisses, 
Its office was on the Avenue de V Opera in an entresol. 

Mulhausen had a private office ornamented with 
pictures and terra cotta busts, with an iron safe and 
mahogany secretary, four arm-chairs, a divan of green 
leather, and a real Smyrna carpet. 

This office and the general one of the journal did 
not communicate. Each opened into the same ante- 
room, however, and in this ante-room sat a small valet 
whose duty it was to take in visiting cards to the 
editor. 

Still another room opened into this ante-chamber. 
It was the subscription office. Two clerks sat at their 
desks, one of wliom, half hidden by a green curtain, 
had as his sole occupation, when a new client appeared, 
the duty of noisily counting a huge pile of gold pieces^ 
which gold pieces were always the same. 

D’Albigny had his private office also. This was in 
the rear, and to reach it the Marquis was obliged to 
pass through the general office, or take the private 
staircase, the door of which was hidden behind a book- 
case. 

The evening previous to tlie publication of the first 
number of the Gazette des Coulisses^ d’Albigny gave a 
great dinner at Nana’s hStel to the journalists of Paris. 
Naturally, therefore, the new sheet was cordially wel- 
comed by its confreres. 

During the first week twenty thousand francs beside 
Mulhausen’s hundred thousand were received, but 
afterward the journal did not pay expenses. The con- 
tributors were paid in notes, which notes they discounted 
at a banker’s who was quite v/illing to accept them, the 


nana's daughter. 325 

Marquis having agreed to “put through ” a matter 
launched by the banker. The management of the 
G-azetie des Coulisses gained by this arrangement three 
months’ respite. 

All the employes, therefore, of the Gazette and all 
the heavy creditors were paid in this way by notes. It 
was not that Mulhausen was without money, but 
because this method seemed to him so very much more 
easy. 

As soon as the Gazette was fairly started, literary 
debutants flocked to the office, some bringing articles, 
others with news. 

Mulhausen received their cards from the youthful 
valet, and issued orders that they should be admitted 
to the salon. 

At the end of a half hour he rang, and received one 
after the other, in the order of their coming, these 
unfortunate writers. 

“We are overwhelmed with matter,” he said, “over- 
whelmed with applications from the first talent in the 
market. We can positively take nothing more at 
present. Return in about six months, or leave your 
manuscript. You shall have an answer in a fortnight.” 

The author naturally left his manuscript, and while 
the debutant went out with the light of hope on his 
countenance, the precious package was placed within 
the desk of the editor. 

But Mulhausen’s specialty was giving audience to 
the ladies attached to the theatres, when all day long 
fair women and dark, tall women and short, rustled 
across that Smyrna carpet in the manager’s room. 

While the Gazette, founded by d’Albigny and sup- 
ported b}’- Mulhausen, was organized and appeared, 
Nana was radiant in jewels, and gave suppers and 
dinners, all on the credit of this journal. 

Gold melted away as of yore, once again in the 
hands of this woman, who appeared at the Bois and 
the races, at the theatres and at the opera, doing her 
best to disguise the encroachments of age. 

She often received Mulhausen at her hotel, while 


326 


nana’s daughter. 


d’Albigny was at the club or was busy in his many 
enterprises — extorting money from. the managers of 
theatres on the verge of bankruptcy, or from com- 
panies whose affairs would not bear looking into, by 
threats of exposure in his newspaper. 

And Nana, who in her gala days had ridiculed Mul- 
hausen, now fraternized with him, and did her best to 
please him. 

Mulhausen was greatly flattered by this amiability, 
and began to believe that after all he was a very de- 
lightful person. He even fancied that he had displaced 
d’Albigny in the esteem of Nana, who, although on 
the decline, was every inch a queen. 

As soon as she again displayed at the Bois her coronet 
and her “ N” on the portiere of her coup^, she was once 
more admired by Mulhausen. He often accompanied her 
when she went to her milliner’s and her dressmaker’s, 
and she made great use of him in allowing him to pay 
in the form of loans for many costly articles, which 
made sad havoc with the reduced funds of the Prince. 

He was none the less carefully dressed and gloved, 
however, and, as he drove with Nana, he was able 
to economize in carriage hire. He dined almost daily 
with Nana, and was consequently very willing when 
he went out with her to pay for some cakes at Johen’s 
and for a glass of vin d' JEspagne. 

His boxes at the theatres he had no difficulty in 
obtaining, although the journal was so new. He was 
seen everywhere with Nana, and put on all the airs of 
a favored admirer. Occasionally, this woman’s beauty 
was as wonderful as ever, and her elegant toilettes, her 
grace and stateliness attracted attention and admira- 
tion whenever she appeared, escorted, as she invariably 
was, by the imperturbable-looking German with his 
blond whiskers. 

One evening she gave a tea, to which d’Albigny 
and Mulhausen invited several journalists, a manager 
of a Cafe-Qo7icert and half a dozen financiers. 

In order to exhibit the fatuity of the Prince, d’Al- 
bigny openly called the attention of the others to 


nana’s daughter. 327 

Nana’s liking for Mulhaiisen, and congratulated him on 
his good fortune with exaggerated bonhomie, 

Mulhaiisen visibly expanded with pride, his face 
was positively radiant with gratified vanity, while 
d’Albigny related many anecdotes in connection with 
the audiences given by the Prince to pretty actresses, 
in his editorial rooms at the G-azette office. 

Tea was served in silver gilt cups, with spoons of 
rock crystal, which were each worth five louis, and 
which d’Albigny had purchased that same day, with 
the money advanced by Mulhausen, paying cash at an 
old curiosity shop in the Passage des Panoramas. 

Luke waited, assisted by a man from the confection- 
er’s. His silver chain glittered around his neck over 
the collar of his black coat, and his long, pale, closely 
shaven face rose from the voluminous fold of his white 
cravat. His slender fingers grasped the large tray 
which contained the cups. 

Several literary women were there to inspect and 
take notes of what Paris called the return of Nana’s 
luck. 

One of them, who had long since passed all possi- 
bility of any such return, predicted with some bitter- 
ness that Nana was too old for her luck to last long. 
Wrinkled, stooping, with a pointed chin, and half tooth- 
less, the good lady whispered all sorts of wicked things 
into the ear of another Bohemian, to which he politely 
listened with an occasional bow, not daring to do more 
lest a discussion should be provoked, which would 
keep him longer at her side. 

Three songs and two addresses came in at the end 
of the evening. To please Mulhausen and not vex 
d’Albigny, Nana received them with a condescending 
smile, and an affectation of haughty dignity. 

To others, who were dbout to appear on the lyric 
stage, she promised the influence of the Gazette, which 
she seemed to regard as her property, and d’Albigny 
and Mulhausen as her employes. 

When tea had been served, the Prince and the Mar- 
quis passed into the card-room with several young men. 


328 


nana’s daughter. 


The evening threatening to be a little dull, Nana, 
solicited by a handsome young fellow attached to the 
staff of an independent newspaper, consented to sing. 
A piano had been brought in the previous day. An 
accompanist took his place at the instrument, and Nana 
feang, with immense success, an air from Robert^ and 
Schubert’s Marguerite, 

Her guests crowded around her when she left the 
piano, with enthusiastic praise, to which she listened 
with the air of a grande dame who makes no musical 
pretensions, but does her best, with her poor little 
amateur talent. 

The handsome young man had a revelation. He 
immediately mentally recomposed a critique he had 
written on la ICrauss, and adapted it to this great artist, 
whom he now heard for the first time. 

About three o’clock, the last guest departed, and 
Nana retired to her apartment, whither the Marquis 
followed her to say a few words. 

Nana’s chamber was furnished with rose-colored 
satin embroidered with white Marguerites. 

The Marquis pulled a low arm-chair toward the toil- 
ette table and looked on while Virginie took down 
Madame’s elaborate head-dress. 

“ How did you do in the green salon to-night ? ” 
asked Nana, abruptly. 

“Host.” 

“ How unfortunate ! ” 

“Very true; but one can’t always win,” 

“ How much did you lose ? ” 

“ Two hundred louis.” 

“ But we have not as much ready money as that in 
the house.” 

“We can live on credit, my dear. Confidence is 
re-established now. Besides, Mulhausen has had so 
much amusement out of his editorship that, if I tell 
him we must either give up the Gazette or obtain 
another hundred thousand francs to carry it on, he will 
give us the money for fear he will lose what he has 
already put in.” 


nana’s daughter. 329 

“ I wish we could be done with that German ; he is 
really an intolerable bore.” 

Virginie had finished Nana’s head by this time, and 
Luke knocked at the door. 

“ Shall I light your room, Monsieur ? ” he asked. 

“Wait for my orders,” answered the Marquis. 

Luke remained standing j-ust within the door, stiff 
and mute. 

“ Before saying good night to you, Madame,” 
resumed the Marquis, “I must give you a piece of 
news.” 

“And what is that?” asked Nana, turning quickly. 

“ Your daughter is to be married.” 

“ And I will be at the wedding,” she answered, with 
an ominous glitter in her green eyes. 

“We will all go, my dear,” said d’Albigny carelessly. 

Luke was still standing by the door. The shadow 
of his sharp features, with his large ears setting out 
from his head, was oddly exaggerated on the rose-col- 
ored portiere. 

The Marquis happened to turn his head and surprised 
the expression of the man’s eyes fixed as they were on 
Nana. 

“ Luke,” he said, “ go light my room.” 

The lackey disappeared. 

Virginie was next dismissed, and all was silent for 
a few minutes. 

“ I will certainly be revenged,” muttered Nana. 

Luke reappeared, saying: 

“ Monsieur, all is ready.” 

“ Then be off to bed with you,” answered the Mar- 
quis with rough kindness, rising as he spoke, and 
kissing Nana’s hand. 

“Thank you, sir,” replied the former clown, and 
under his breath he added : “ I, too, will be at that 
wedding, be sure of that ! ” 


330 


NANA’S DAUaHTER. 


CHAPTER LIV. 

A HERALD OF DISASTER. 

N OW that these two, Lucien and Andrde, had been 
so near death, they both gladly accepted life and 
happiness with entire faith in each other and themselves. 

All Lucien’s doubts had vanished before this supreme 
proof, given him by Andree, that she could not live 
without him. It was more difficult, however, for him 
to win his own forgiveness than to obtain her’s. 

Every evening they went to the Parc Monceaux^ and 
seated themselves by the tiny lake. From the bench 
on which they usually sat, they could see a strip of 
blackened wall, and, on the lower floor, part of a win- 
dow, from which still hung a bit of an awning. 

This was all that remained of Nana’s hotel. Through 
this broken window the same star appeared nightly. 

Lucien and Andrde ended by adopting this star as 
their own, and always waited for it, and indulged in 
a childish sort of belief that its regular appearance 
purified the bitter remembrance of Andrde’s mother. 

After sitting for an hour or two in the starry stillness 
of the night, they returned home with softened hearts — 
Andree’s little hand resting on her lover’s arm. Her 
step was shorter than his, and he did his best to accom- 
modate his own to hers. 

On rainy evenings they did not go out, and Mon- 
sieur Despretz read aloud, sometimes from Victor 
Hugo, that master of masters, and sometimes a chef 
d' oeuvre like Paul and Virginia^ over which Andrde 
wept all one night. 

He brought her new books, and all the poems of the 
day. While he read, Madame Naviel and her adopted 
daughter sewed, and Monsieur Naviel, lying back in 
his easy chair, looked out at the clouds passing swiftly 
over the sky. 


nana’s daughter. 


331 


Every preparation was at last completed. Andr^e 
and Lucien were to be married on the following Satur- 
day. Lucien had obtained a certificate of exemption 
from military service on account of the injury to his 
chest, as his mother not being married the law did not 
recognize him as the support of a family. 

The Sunday preceding the marriage, the Despretz 
and Naviel families went to pass the day in the woods 
near Meudon. 

During the day Lucien offered his arm to his mother. 
She thanked him but refused to take it, saying : 

“ Thank you, my son, for having tliought of me, but 
I do not require your assistance. Your arm belongs 
now to Andr^e.” 

In vain did Andrde join her entreaties to Lucien’s. 
The old lady was obstinate in her refusal. The two 
young people, therefore, ran on in advance, both of 
them as happy as cliildren just out of school. Andrde 
laughed with a clear, ringing sound, which shook the 
glossy leaves under which the birds had retreated to 
their nests from the heat of the midday sun. 

She was very charming, in her simple white dress 
and straw hat, trimmed with field flowers. She wore 
long, gray gloves, coming nearly to her elbows, and 
gray shoes, with Louis Quinze heels. 

They went up the wide avenue which led to the 
chateau^ and turned to the right and took a narrow, 
stony path, at the end of which was the house of the 
Guard. 

“ Oh ! what a horrible road ! It is almost impossi- 
ble to walk here,” she said, as she clung to his arm. 

And he laughed at her for coming into the country 
with shoes Avhich were only fit to wear on a carpet. 

Their parents followed more slowly, but with tran- 
quil happiness on their faces — a reflection apparently 
of this youthful gaiety. 

Suddenly, Andrde uttered a joyous cry. 

“ Cows ! Look at those cows 1 ” she exclaimed, as 
she began to run over the grass, to a place which she 
saw, under the apple-trees, all in bloom. 


332 


nana's daughtek. 


Several tables and chairs were arranged there, and 
three cows were grazing a little further off. 

At this irruption of exuberant youth, they lifted 
their heads, and looked at Andrde with their big, placid 
eyes. 

The cottage of the Guard was in the middle of a 
small garden, planted with cabbages and potatoes. 
Along the wall was a row of sunflowers, already so tall 
that they cast their shadows on the roof of the house. 

The Guard’s wife came out to meet them with hos- 
pitable cordiality. 

“ What would these ladies and gentlemen like ? ” she 
asked. 

“ Have you any milk ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, plenty.” 

“And fresh eggs?” 

“ Yes, sir, as fresh as possible — ^just warm from the 
nest.” 

“ Make us an omelette, then.” 

In ten minutes the good woman brought the ome- 
lette out to a table under the apple-tree, and then went 
back for the milk, which she brought, foaming and 
white, in a tall, gray pitcher. She had only three 
glasses. Consequently, Lucien and Andr^e drank from 
the same one. Never had any milk tasted so refresh- 
ing as this to Lucien, and it was now Andree’s turn to 
laugh at him for his inordinate thirst. 

This rustic repast was delightful. White butterflies 
fluttered about. The mother-hen, with her brood of 
fluffy chickens, disputed the crumbs that fell from the 
table with the cat of the house, while the cows lifted 
their heads occasionally to inspect them all. 

When the wind lifted the branches of the trees, they 
could see Paris outspread below them in the valley ; 
and a little to the left sparkled the Seine, deep blue in 
color, winding among the green hills. 

Andree remembered having come to this same place 
one autumn with the Naviels — in those days when she 
had not known Lucien, any more than to meet him on 
the stairs, when he drew back, with a respectful bow, 
to let her pass. 


nana’s daughter. 


333 


“ How strange life is ! ” she' said, with a sigh. 

It was that same day that, on their return, her father 
had saved the life of Face-d-Claques. 

And it was that yqvj Face-d- Claques who claimed 
now to be her father. Certainly, she had strange 
antecedents. And again she murmured : 

“ How strange life is ! ” 

This poor Face-d-Claques had an absorbing interest 
for her. She noticed, too, that, whenever he crossed 
her path, his appearance seemed to herald some start- 
ling event. 

She had not seen him now since he came, the day 
after the fire, to warn the Naviels of the machinations 
of the Marquis against the engineer. Now all was 
over. The Marquis and Nana had played their last 
card, and thrown up the game. 

What hope could they now have of* preventing 
Andree’s marriage? Besides, even if they could suc- 
ceed in doing so, how would it serve them, since she 
positively refused to cast in her existence with theirs, 
and they had no possible way of compelling obedience 
from her? 

Mademoiselle sat thinking of all these things, while 
at the same time contemplating the farmer’s little 
daughter, a child of about three years old, who, sitting 
with the head of the big dog on her lap, was watching 
the strangers with great gravity. 

Lucien interrupted Andr^e’s meditation. 

“ Will you take a walk? ” he said to them all. 

His mother refused, saying that she was very tired. 
The Naviels preferred to remain with her, but they 
said to the young people ; 

“ Go on — we will wait for you here.” 

Lucien and Andr^e walked off together, and entered 
the forest. They chose the narrowest and most shaded 
paths. Andr^e took off her hat and held it in her hand 
by the strings. Sometimes a straggling ray of sunlight 
struck Andree’s hair, and it seemed to light up the 
dark shadows like a fiame. 

They gathered a spray of flowers and some of the 


334 


nana’s daughter. 


young and tender leaves, mingling with the latter, pale 
violets and yellow primroses, deep golden buttercups 
and blue periwinkles, wild lilies of the valley, and other 
tender things, of which they did not even know the 
names, nor did they care to know. They wandered on, 
happy with each other, happy in the beauty of the 
day — happy that their future was assured. 

They returned to their parents as the sun was set- 
ting, and dined under the apple-trees. They lingered 
to see Paris lighted up, and stood on the heights of 
Meudon to wonder at the strange beauty of the sight. 
They could trace out the Quais by the sinuous line of 
light. The sky over the Boulevards, over the Opera 
House, and over the Bourse was irradiated, and darker 
above the towers of Notre Dame and the Invalides. 

It was two o’clock when Lucien and Andr(^e parted 
at the door. 

The concierge opened his wicket, and said to Andr^e : 

“ Mademoiselle, a tall, thin man was here to-night to 
see you, and said he would come back to-morrow.” 

Andr^e at once knew that this tall man must be the 
person who claimed to be her father. 


N ana’s daughter. 


335 


CHAPTER LV. 

THE DEED OF GIFT. 

A fter having been dismissed by the Marquis the 
night of the tea party, Luke discovered that Nana 
was preparing a public scandal for the day of Andrde’s 
marriage, and determined to warn the Naviels. 

He hurried to them the first morning he could leave 
the house, but unfortunately the two families were at 
Meudon. 

The next morning Lucien came early to speak to 
Andr^e — he was in the habit of stopping there every 
day on his way to his work. 

He found his fiancee preoccupied and, uneasy, for she 
well knew that Luke never appeared under the roof of 
the Naviels except to warn them of some new machina- 
tion of the Marquis and Nana. What was on foot now? 
What new scheme had they concocted to impede their 
marriage ? Happiness had made her very timid. The 
realization of her dream of becoming Lucien’s wife 
seemed to her almost too sweet to be possible. What 
obstacle would these people now invent to mar her joy? 

This visit from Luke threw her into a state of vague 
anxiety, and she awaited his return with great impa- 
tience. Lucien asked her the reason of her evident 
preoccupation, and she was telling him of her fears 
when Luke rang the bell for the second time. Margot 
showed him into the salon where the young people 
were sitting. The lackey walked at once up to 
Lucien, and said, abruptly : 

“Would you kindly give me the name of your 
father? ” 

Lucien, greatly startled, replied with another 
question : 

“Why do you ask me this?” 

“ Because it is a matter of importance to both you 
and me.” 


336 


nana’s daughter. 


“What common interest can we two have?” 

“ An interest which might break off your marriage.” 

“Say whatever you please,” cried Andr4e, “but let 
it be at once, and furnish your proofs.” 

“ Proofs of what ? ” 

“ A week ago, you insisted that you were my father, 
and the former admirer of her whose lackey you are 
to-day.” 

“ I repeat what I said then, and, moreover, add that 
Madame Despretz can vouch for what I say. She knew 
me long ago, and knows the truth. Poor woman ! 
How hard it will be for her. Ah ! excuse me, sir ; I 
had forgotten that you were her son and have a right 
to hate me.” 

“ What on earth do you mean ? Come, now, speak 
clearly ; drop all this mystery, and say what you wish 
to say. You asked me a while ago if I knew the name 
of my father. No, sir, I do not. My mother never 
uttered it, and I do not dare question her. She simply 
told me with many tears that she had been most cruelly 
treated. I asked for no particulars — ” 

“Stop, Monsieur Lucien, for the man who wronged 
her is probably myself. Do you see, now, why I say 
that this marriage of yours with Andr^e may be im- 
practicable? I am Andree’s father, and I may be 
yours.” 

“ I will tell you what you are,” interrupted Lucien, 
vehemently : “ you are a knave and an imposter, quite 
worthy of being the lackey of the Marquis d’Albigny.” 

“ So be it ! I hope you are right, and, as I said to 
this sweet girl whom you wish to marry, the Marquis 
is a villain of th^ deepest dye. One of two things is 
true : either I am your father, or I am not. If I am 
not, all is well ; if I am, you and that girl are brother 
and sister. Now, do you understand?” 

“ Lucien, this man is mad,” exclaimed Andr^e ; 
“don't listen to another word he says.” 

“ The disorder of his mind is evident in the incohe- 
rence of his statements,” added Lucien. 

“ Listen, young man,” said Luke ; “ I like you — a 


nana’s daughter. 


337 


little for what you may possibly be to me, and more for 
what you are to my daughter ; you may think me mad, 
if you choose, although I wish sincerely I were, if what 
I fear is true ; you may insult me, and beat me, and I 
■* will submit to insults and blows, first, because you are 
Andr^e’s fiance^ and, next, because you are the son of 
Ad^le Despretz, and these two human beings are just 
those whom I venerate like two saints. In any event, 
you must be on your guard. The estimable Marquis 
has prepared some precious bit of rascality for your 
wedding day, in which he is to be assisted by Madame 
Nana, who intends, I imagine, to disclose her relation- 
ship and forbid the banns. You had best consult some 
lawyer, and see what you can do.” 

He hesitated a moment, and then added, almost 
as if speaking to himself: 

“ I have one hope — if Madame Despretz would only 
make a clean breast of it, and accuse the Marquis. I 
will see her at once ! ” 

Then, addressing the lovers, he said : 

“Have a little patience, young people. I would 
willingly cut myself into inch bits to make you as happy 
as you deserve, and you may rely on my doing all in 
my power for you.” 

He went to the door, where he stopped, and, as he put 
the hat with its blue cockade on his bald head, he turned 
and looked at Andr^e, who sat with eyes cast down, 
turning listlessly the pages of one of the last books her 
lover had brought. 

Lucien was standing by the window, with a pained 
expression on his troubled face. 

Luke snatched off his hat, and walked up to Lucien : 

“ Young man,” he said, “ if you are not my son, your 
father was very like me, for I can see the resemblance 
myself.” 

He looked so strangely, as he stood with his legs 
placed so far apart, his two hands clutching his hat, as 
if asking alms, with his close-cut hair, his long bony 
arms, and with his ears sitting out from his head, that 
Andree could not refrain from laughing at the com- 


338 


nana’s daughter. 


parison which he instituted between himself and her 
Lucien, whom she saw with the halo about him lent by 
his love and his youth. 

She did not once think that Luke might have been 
quite as handsome in years past, and that it was the 
life he had led that had so degraded the man before her. 

Lucien, whose indignation was excited by the lackey’s 
words, was calmed on hearing Andr^e laugh, and turned 
away with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. 

Luke shook his head, and went away without another 
word. 

As he descended the stairs, however, he muttered : 

“Poor little simpletons, they really believe me to 
be their enemy.” 

Lucien rose almost immediately to depart, and just 
as he was going, the concierge knocked at the door with 
a letter for Andr^e. 

The address was in an unknown and irregular hand. 

She opened it. It contained only a few lines : 

“ I have heard that you wished to die. I see that 
you love him deeply. You do well, for he is a good 
fellow. I am going away. You will find with the 
well-known lawyer the deed which gives you three 
millions as a dowry. You can accept this from a friend 
who himself will shortly need only the earth in which 
he lies. Adieu, and be happy ! 

“ These are my last words and the last wishes of him 
who has loved you without a thought of evil.” 

The signature was in Sanscrit characters. 

She handed the letter to Lucien, saying, as she did so : 

“ What do you think of this, Lucien ? ” 

He read the letter, and replied : 

“ Accept this kindness, Andree. I am sure of your 
love for me, otherwise why should you have preferred 
me to the Rajah. If you decline this offer, you will 
appear to doubt my faith in you.” 

“ So be it, then ; we will share his bounty ! ” 

And she began to clap her hands joyously. One of 


nana’s daughter. 


339 


her dreams was accomplished. She was about to make 
her adopted parents happj^ and to render the lives of 
Lucien and his mother easy and comfortable. She ran 
to the work-room, calling out: 

“ Mamma ! dear little mamma ! read this ! ” She held 
the letter open in her hand, and her eyes were as bright 
as stars. 

^ She was eager to see the Rajah that she might thank 
him, and wis&d that she could make him happy ; but 
this she knew she could not do, as she could not love 
him. She had comprehension of the anguish he had 
suffered in seeing another preferred. She did not 
know that he was djdng of this sorrow, and that every 
day the life-blood welled from his lips, staining his 
white handkerchief with scarlet drops. 

Madame Naviel said they ought to go at once to see 
the lawyer, and bade her daughter dress as quickly as 
possible, Lucien saying he would accompany them 
before he went to his daily duties. 

It so happened that the notary lived at Batignolles. 
They reached his door about eleven. Lucien inquired 
for Monsieur Redone. 

“ He is engaged,” answered the clerk to whom he 
had spoken — a short, bald man, who tucked his pen 
behind his ear and pushed up his spectacles while he 
answered the visitors. 

“And the head-clerk?” 

“ The head-clerk is away for the day,” curtly replied 
the man, who measured his politeness by the apparent 
importance of the people before him. 

Andr^e, somewhat impatient, said quickly : “ Please 
go to your master, and tell him that he has in his pos- 
session a deed which constitutes me heiress to three 
millions.” 

The clerk rose as if a spring had been touched. 
His eyes expanded, and he gazed, open-mouthed, at the 
young lady who had spoken. 

These three millions, of which Andr^e had spoken 
with such calm indifference, had galvanized the little 
man. 


21 


340 


nana's daughter. 


His red eyelids contracted a little, as he looked at 
the young girl with an air of an astronomer examining 
a star, and then he hurried towards Monsieur Redone’s 
private office. He presently reappeared to usher in 
the Naviel party. 

“Monsieur, I suppose, is the brother of Mademoi- 
selle?” asked the lawyer, with a cunning look. 

“Monsieur is my fiancS^^'' answered Andr^e, with 
sweet gravity. 

“ I congratulate him with all my heart,” murmured 
the lawyer. 

The deed was locked up. He opened the tin box in 
which it was, and, taking it out, read it aloud from 
beginning to end, and then gave it into Andr^e’s pos- 
session when she had shown him the Rajah’s letter. 

“Permit me to observe. Mademoiselle, that all the 
necessary papers are in this box. I hold them subject 
to your orders, and beg to assure you that I am ready 
to make any investments you may desire, and to aid 
you with the benefit of my experience. In fact,” he 
added, with superannuated gallantry, “ I am ready to 
lay my old head at your young feet.” 

Andree thanked him with a smile, and, putting the 
deed of gift in her pocket, went away with her mother 
and Lucien. 

All the clerks in the outer room rose as she passed 
through, and bowed to the very ground. 


kana’s daughter. 


341 


CHAPTER LVL 

MARTYRDOM. 

TTTHEN Luke left t\\Q jiancSs^ he hastened to la Rue 
V V Croisatiere. 

D’Albigny, before going to the club with the inten- 
tion of sta3dng there all night, and of passing the fol- 
lowing morning at the office of the Gazette des Cou- 
lisses^ had given him a half-holicla}^ 

When Luke reached the house of Madame Despretz, 
he found her busy mending some of her son’s clothing. 
She was seated near the window, and giving the closest 
attention to her task. 

This woman, who had grown old prematurely, had 
only one hope, one jo}'^ in life. Her heart had been 
trampled upon — her faith in God and man broken 
down in her early youth, and she had accustomed 
herself to living a joyless, solitary existence. When 
she expressed her sentiments on man and life, she 
condensed a whole world of bitterness into one brief 
sentence. 

She invariably wore black, and a fluted cap of white 
muslin covered her scanty gray hair. Felt slippers, 
without heels, were on her feet, and, when the bell 
rang, she moved almost noiselessly to open the door. 

When she saw Luke she said slowly : 

“You have come! Am I avenged?” 

“ Not yet, dear AdMe, not yet. But all that depends 
on you. Whenever you say the word I am ready.” 

“Explain yourself.” 

“ I cannot take a step now without your assistance.” 

“Mine?” 

“ Yes, yours.” 

“ And in what way ? ” 

“This noble Marquis d’Albigny — would that the 
earth would open and swallow him ! — related, in the 


342 


nana’s daughter. 


presence of yonr hnmble servant, a villainy of liis 
committed when he was very young. He told of his 
acquaintance with a pretty little glove-vender, in the 
Passage de V 0 per a^ who lived at Asni^res with her 
parents — ” 

“ Well ! what is all that to me ? ” 

“ Wait a bit. The girl was pretty, but she was 
good, which was not in the least what the Marquis 
wanted, who was, though not more than twent3'-one 
or two, well advanced in the wa3's of wickedness — ” 

“ But I ask again wh3^ 3^011 waste your time in 
telling me this tale? It possesses not the slightest 
interest for me.” 

“Wait, I sa3". This d’Albigny besieged this girl, 
who was named Ad^le Despretz, week after week. 
She was pretty, too, and a blond, as you were before 
your hair was gra3\ Well, one evening, when it was 
snowing as hard as if all the geese in the world were 
being plucked, the Marquis carried off tlie pretty girl 
in a carriage — and I leave 3mu to guess what followed. 
Do 3^11 understand now?” 

“No; I understand nothing, except that you have 
come here to tell me the crimes of a man w^hom T 
have other reasons for hating.” 

“I am quite ready to believe, if you insist upon it, 
that between this Adele Despretz, whose story I have 
just told 3’ou, and yourself there is no connection, 
particularly as I never knew 3^011 had been a glove- 
vender in the Passage de V 0 p 4 ra \ but don't vou think 
that other people might as well look upon you as the 
same ? ” 

“And why, pray?” 

“ SimpH that, in that case, vour son can marry 
the girl he loves. Simply that my daughter, who will 
kill herself unless she becomes liis wife, may live.” 

“ You wish me to say that I have been the victim 
of the Marquis d’Albigny ? Good Heavens! No! 
Ten thousand times, no ! I have never loved any 
other man than yourself. Do you think your conduct 
toward me was such as to induce me to regard 


nana’s daughter. 


343 


men with favor? No ; I have wept all the tears in my 
heart away, and I grew old at once on your desertion. 
It was a cowardly thing you did, when you deserted 
me for a woman like Nana! Yes; it was a base and 
cowardly act.” 

“I agree with you, Ad^le. I was all that you say. 
And, yet,” he continued, “ if this story is true, this boy 
Lucien must have been two or three years old before I 
saw you.” 

“ You insult me by such a supposition.” 

“Yes, I see that, but I am puzzled. The name and 
the description given by the Marquis, correspond with 
you. Ah ! Adele, your hair now is as white as mine. 
But how pretty you were I Do you remember those 
excursions on the lake, and in the Montmorency 
Forest? What lovely days those were. Then I was a 
gentleman. Since, I have tried almost everything, 
i have dabbled in all sorts of rascalities, big and little. 
I am no longer the same person whom you knew. 
My heart is that of a clown and a lackey. But all this 
has nothing to do with what I came here for. These 
children cannot marry.” 

“ Yes, they can and will. I shall give you no expla- 
nation. I shall simjDly repeat that they can marry.” 

“Ail right, then. I fear, however, that Andr^e’s 
mother intends to make some trouble. If she does, 
I can’t answer for myself. I may take it into my head 
to strangle her.” 

“ She will not dare come alone, and d’Albigny won’t 
come with her, knowing that he must meet Andr^e’s 
adopted father. These people are audacious toward 
the weak but cowardly with the strong. Besides, if she 
does come, I will tell the truth at the Mairie. I will say 
that she wishes to prevent her daughter’s marriage that 
she may lead the girl a life of misery I ” 

“ Rely on my assistance, Adele. I wish to lead a 
new life. I wish to become once more what I was 
when I first knew you. I wish to be worthy of you. 

I entreat you to allow me to be the support of your 
old age, the father of your son — ^your husband, in short. 
Will you be my wife, Adele?” 


344 


nana’s daughter. 


As he spoke, he had taken in his the wrinkled hand 
of his companion. 

She did not speak, and seemed plunged in bitter 
reflection, but she did not withdraw her hand. 

“I promise you,” he said in a low voice, “that I will 
lead a new life. I promise you that I will earn our 
bread by honest labor. I love you now as I loved you 
before that fatal day when I met Nana. Give me time, 
though, and I will punish her.” 

“No; let her alone. Leave the house at once. She 
is, I am told, almost ruined ; old age and poverty will 
sufficiently avenge me. The Marquis, however, will be 
caught, I trust, in some piece of rascality which will 
send him to the galleys.” 

Luke started up. 

“ I hope so, too,” he said. “ Saturday, then, is the 
great day. I shall be at the wedding, for I must wit- 
ness my daughter’s happiness ; and if Nana makes any 
trouble, I will soon close her lips. I will see you then, 
on Saturday, at the Mairie^ 

He placed his hat, with its blue cockade, on his head, 
and went away. 

Not long after, Lucien Despretz came in, much 
earlier than usual. 

“ Do you know what has happened ? ” he said to his 
mother, as he kissed her. 

“No, I do not ; but pray tell me at once, for I am ill 
and nervous to-night.” 

“Andree has inherited three millions I” 

“ Then she will not marry you ? ” 

“ I beg your pardon.” 

“ And you are willing to accept money that comes 
to you from you know not whence ? ” 

“I know both whence and why. The money is clean 
and wholesome. Besides, Andrie, fearing lest I should 
be displeased, wished at first to refuse this legacy.” 

“And you encouraged her to accept it?” 

“ I did, indeed. I know that she loves me ; she has 
given me the best proof of that.” 

“Very well; it is your affair. You will do as you 


nana’s daughter. 


345 


think best.” And she took up her work as if nothing 
had happened. The excessive whiteness of her crisp 
cap and her well worn and well brushed black dress 
were in the full light from the window. Her pale face 
had all the serenity of the portraits of saints, distin- 
guished with difficulty in the soft obscurity of chapels, 
but whose eyes follow 3^11 with fixed determination. 

Her hands were wrinkled and bore the marks of 
toil. Generali}^ when Lucien came in, he lighted the 
furnace and prepared supper, while his mother talked. 
But this night, when she heard the fire crackling in the 
kitchen stove, she called out : 

“ Leave all that, my dear boy ; I am coming ; it is my 
affair, now. Besides, when I am alone, my cooking 
will not take long.” 

“ But /ou will come to us, dear mother, and you will 
have two children, instead of one.” 

“No; your wife is rich and I am poor. I do not wish 
to be taken care of by her.” 

“ But she will not think that.” 

“No, probabl}^ not. I should, however, and be in- 
tensely humiliated. The continued presence of an old 
woman, even if she be 3^0111’ mother, Lucien, cannot be 
agreeable to your 3’oung wife. I would never consent 
to sow discord and coldness in your home. I wish to 
live and die alone ! ” 

“ I will not contradict you, dear mother, although it 
makes me very unhappy to hear you sa3^ such things,” 
answered Lucien, as he laid the cloth. 

Madame Despretz arose and walked softly across the 
room in her felt slippers. In the doorwa3^ she turned 
and looked at her son. He was still busy, endeavoring 
to save his mother all these petty cares. It was diffi- 
cult to believe that he was soon to come into the 
enjoyment of wealth. 

Madame Despretz thought of all the proofs of filial 
affection this good son had given her, and asked her- 
self, with jealous egotism, what she should do when he 
married. 

Then, immediately, she reproached herself with this 


346 


nana’s daughter. 


narrowness which allowed her to make a rival of 
Andrde. She determined to make her sacrifice 
complete. 

At this moment, Lucien looked up and saw his 
mother leaning against the door, and caught her 
expression of tearful resignation. 

He divined so much courageous self-abnegation 
under this veil of sadness that he at once went to her, 
and, taking both her hands in his, said with affectionate 
authority : 

“ I do not wish you to be sad because I am happy.” 

Madame Despretz threw her arms around the neck 
of her son, and, kissing him tenderly, cried out : 

“ How can I be sad when you are happy ? You 
shall have your Andr^e — yes, you shall have her, and 
if any one tries to take her from you, I shall sacrifice 
all in your defence — yes, all.” 

She threw her head back to look in his face, and hers 
was radiant with its expression of martyrdom. 


nana’s daughter. 


347 


CHAPTER LVII. 

RETROSPECTION. 

T he wealth that had so suddenly come to Andrde 
Naviel in no way changed her preparations for her 
marriage. All was delightfully simple. The two fami- 
lies supped together the evening before the wedding. 
Andrde and Lucien had made arrangements to put 
Monsieur Naviel into business, and leased for Madame 
Naviel a shop, on the Boulevard des Italiens^ where she 
could extend her manufacture and sale of flowers. 
The young people, however, had as yet formed no defi- 
nite plans for themselves. They were to leave Paris 
for a month immediately after their marriage, and this 
supper was in reality their farewell. 

After dinner, Madame Naviel served coffee in the 
salon, and Andr^e called in her work-women and 
announced to them that her mother would in future 
carry on the establishment alone, or rather with the 
assistance of Margot, and added that in honor of her 
marriage she should make them each a present of one 
hundred francs. She also invited them to the wedding 
dinner, and then dismissed them. 

She had not yet opened the wardrobe in which her 
wedding dress had been placed, after that terrible night 
when she had put it on. 

She called to Lucien to come with her, as she left 
the salon. He rose from his chair and followed her. 

She laid her long silk skirt on a chair, to take out 
the wrinkles. Lucien assisted her. It was he who 
arranged the waist over the skirt, carefully bringing 
forward the sleeves. 

Andr^e was immensely amused at this, and at his 
orderly demeanor. 

“ Is your coat ready ? ” she asked. 

“Yes: it is the first dress coat I ever had. My 


348 


nana’s daughter. 


mother said it fitted me well, but I do not place the 
most entire reliance on what she says where I am con- 
cerned, for she thinks me superb in everything. All I 
do is correct in her eyes. Perhaps, my wife will be 
more severe.” 

“ I may be so as regards your coat and your tailor; 
never for you.” 

“ I know love is blind ; that is the reason why my 
little wife should not see too clearly.” 

She turned away with a sigh, and placed her white 
satin boots in front of the chair, with the silk stockings 
she had worn just once. 

The corheille of the bride was very small, but every 
article was in the most exquisite taste. 

Lucien gave Andr^e a watch on which their initials 
were interwoven in seed pearls ; a brooch formed of 
a rose set with brilliants, a ring and a pair of ear-rings 
like the brooch, and a bracelet peculiar in design, and 
an emerald snake, with ruby eyes. 

Andrde had given Lucien double sleeve buttons, 
ornamented with huge sapphires of great value. 

It was a warm night in May, and the soft air came 
in at the open window. 

Lucien at first, leaned out alone, from this window, 
which he had contemplated a fortnight before with 
such intensity of despair. 

One by one, all the sad experiences of that night 
returned to him. He perceived the very gas light 
under which he stood for so long. All the ideas 
that had then pierced his brain like poisoned arrows 
returned now to his imagination and worried him. 

His heart seemed to contract, and the strength went 
out of his knees. He asked himself how it was that 
he had been able to endure his sufferings, and his teeth 
chattered at the mere recollection. Andr(^e, surprised 
at his silence, approached him without his knowledge, 
and laid her hand on his shoulder. 

“ What are you thinking of? ” she asked, as he turned 
with a start. “ You are silent and sad to-night.” 

“You know of what I am thinking,” he answered. 


nana’s daughter. 


349 


“For the last ten minutes I have been looking at the 
spot where I stood that night, and watched your win- 
dow. And you, dearest, were dying in this room, 
while I was dying without in the street. We were 
mad, dear, were we not?” 

“ Yes, dear, very mad.” 

“ Let us suppose, for one moment, that for some 
reason our marriage were absolutely impracticable — 
that we could not marry either now or ever — what 
then ? What should we do ? ” 

“We would leave our parents the Rajah’s money, 
and go and drown ourselves in the sea.” She answered 
very quietly, but in her eyes there was a feverish 
glitter. “I have often dreamed of that death. Once I 
was at Havre and saw the sea. I should rather sleep 
under those blue waves than in an oak box^, because in 
the sea we could be buried together.” 

“ Yes, Andr^e, and our last sigh should be a kiss.” 

“ A death like that would be far preferable to life 
without you.” 

“ There will be yet a night and a day before you will 
be mine. Many things may happen before then ! ” 

“ No, Lucien ; no human power shall separate us 
now. If an obstacle arises, if my mother appears and 
attempts to frustrate our hopes, you promise me, Lucien, 
that we will die as we have said ? ” 

“ I swear it ! ” answered Lucien. 

They both lifted their arms to the sky, where tlieir 
star was shining with a greenish light like that in 
Andree’s eyes. Then Lucien kissed his beloved with 
tender respect. 

He buried his face in the soft ripples of her hair. 
“ Oh ! Andrde ! Andrde ! ” he murmured ; “ I love you 
more than aught else in the world ! ” 

They were interrupted by a long sigh. 

Lucien turned and saw his mother. 

“I heard you,” she murmured, “and I cannot blame 
you. And yet,” she continued, with a bitter smile, “I 
have no one in the world but you ! ” 

Lucien wished to put one arm around her while with 


350 


nana’s daughtes. 


the other he still held his fiancSe^ but she repulsed him 
gently. 

“ No, my child, I will leave you now.” 

Alid she returned to the salon to the Naviels, while 
the lovers remained in the moonlight and talked over 
their future. 

Suddenly Andr^e uttered an exclamation, and pointed 
toward la Rue de Rome. 

“ Look ! ” she said to Lucien. 

“Yes; I see a man passing.” 

“ But that man — do you recognize him ? ” 

“No, indeed.” 

“Well, it is Luke, and he is coming here.” 

“ And what of that ? ” 

“It is some machination of Nana’s.” 

“ I dare say ; but we have our oath as a refuge.” 

“Don’t let us stay here any longer,” answered 
Andr^e, with a shiver. “ I am afraid.” 


nana's daughter. 


351 


CHAPTER LVIII. 

MARGOT MAKES HER PLANS. 

N ot long afterward, Luke rang the bell. Both 
families were then in the salon, and Monsieur 
Naviel opened the door. 

He cordially extended his hand to the lackey. 

“ You were right,” he said, “ and I was wrong in not 
allowing d’Albigny to broil, for, as you know, he had 
me arrested as a thief. Fortunately, however, the 
police soon found out which of us was the honest man.” 

“Justice is not blind. Monsieur Naviel, nor is she 
deaf, and in this affair both her eyes and her ears are 
of a very good use.” 

“ I fancy that you may have had some hand in my 
release,” said the engineer ; “ did you not ? ” 

“In some degree, for I took good care that they should 
know a few facts at the Prefecture about my good 
master.” 

“Do you mean that you are connected with the 
police ? ” 

“Yes — under the rose; but it won’t be for long. I 
have begged the Government to give me other duties, 
and I have every reason to hope that my wishes will be 
complied with.” 

Luke hung up his hat, and entered the salon, bowing 
respectfully to Madame Naviel and Madame Despretz. 
Then going up to Lucien, he shook hands with him, 
saying : 

“ It is to-morrow, then ? Look out ! The Marquis 
will be there, and Madame Nana, too — ” 

“ We shall all be there,” interrupted Naviel, “and it 
will go hard with your Marquis, if he gives us any 
trouble. Did he send you here now? ” 

“ By no means. I came of my own accord. I 
concluded that you would all be together, and that, 


352 


N A N A ’ S D A U G II T K U . 


consequently, the person whom I particularly wish to 
see, would be here also. It is to you, Madame Despretz, 
that I wish to speak in regard to the happiness of your 
son. The nails and the teeth must be extracted from 
the people you know of — those who wish to separate 
our young people.” 

“ Come into the work-room, we shall be alone there,” 
said Madame Despretz. 

She opened the door, and was the first to enter, fol- 
lowed by Luke. 

Margot was just finishing some orange blossoms, 
intended for the bride’s corsage. 

“ Leave us a moment, my child,” said Madame Des- 
pretz. Margot asked permission to go on for five 
minutes, as the next morning she would not have time 
to work. 

When the last leaf was set, she rose silently and 
made a detour to avoid Luke, who always inspired her 
with intense aversion. 

She carried the orange blossoms to Andr^e to show 
them. The young girl thanked her, and, taking the 
pretty white fiowers in her fingers, laid them on the 
table where Lucien had placed his gifts, saying to 
Margot, as she did so : 

“ I shall keep them always in remembrance of you.” 

“ And I, Mademoiselle, what shall I do to show you 
my gratitude ? ” answered Margot, in a trembling voice. 
“I was very wicked toward you, and was well punished. 
You, Mademoiselle, are so good that, instead of letting 
me grovel in the mire, you did not hesitate to lift me up 
with your own white hands. Then, too, on the day of 
the Review, you spoke of me to that man who is now 
in there with Madame Despretz. I never can see him 
without trembling from head to foot.” 

“ You are a good girl, Margot, and I was sure you 
would become so, when I took you here to live with us. 
I promise you a permanent situation if you continue 
to do as well.” 

“ You are very kind. Mademoiselle, but I have some- 
thing in my head, and I tell you that two days will not 


nana’s daughter. 


353 


elapse before these policemen will have their paws on 
me again.” 

She uttered these words with a very wretched look 
in her eyes, and then added : 

“ Good night, Madame, Mademoiselle, and all the 
company.” 

Then, turning on her heel, she left the room, and ran 
lightly up to her attic. 

At the same moment, Luke entered with Madame 
Despretz, who was deadly pale, and had that nervous 
contraction of the features which indicates .great pain 
of mind or body. 

She had been weeping, for her eyes were very red. 
Her hands, falling at her side on her black dress, were 
painfully thin, with cord-like blue veins starting out 
upon them. 

“ You are suffering, dear mother,” said Lucien and 
Andr^e, almost simultaneously. 

“No, my children, my suferings are nearly over,” 
she answered with a sigh. 

“ My friends,” said Luke, “ to-morrow brings us hap- 
piness or sorrow, it remains to be proved which. I 
have just told Monsieur Naviel that I propose to lead 
a new life. I am ashamed to have been for years the 
victim of a woman like Nana, and to have deserted 
a good woman for her sake.” 

“You can name this woman, my friend,” said Ma- 
dame Despretz, firmly. “ I forgive you, and call upon 
all here present to bear witness to this, for to-morrow I 
may not have strength to speak.” 

“ Yes, AdMe, you will have both strength and health. 
You will live and be happy yet ; I will make you laugh 
once more, for you don’t know how droll I can be. I 
can tell you stories which will make you burst out 
laughing. Now, then, about to-morrow ; at what hour 
will you be at the Mairie ? ” 

“ At noon, precisely.” 

“Very good; I will be punctual.” 

And turning to the fiancSs, who were seated side by 
side, he said with some emotion : 

“ Love each other, children, as you do now, for, say 


354 


nana’s daughter. 


what you will, love is the only thing that is real in this 
world.” 

He went away without his hat, and Naviel called 
him back. 

“ Yes, to be sure ! ” answered Luke ; “ to-day I forget 
my hat, to-morrow, perhaps, I shall forget my head. 
The truth is I am worried about poor Addle. I hoped 
to induce her to tell the truth, if it were necessary, 
before the Mayor, but she pretends that she does not 
know what I mean. Poor woman ! she has ar spring 
loose somewhere, but I will take care of her now. So 
long as she lives I will be her nurse and her watch dog, 
for I owe everything to this dear creature.” 

“ You must do your duty, friend, and look neither to 
the right nor the left,” said Naviel, in his strong, full 
voice. “ You have not always done right, we know 
that, but happily there is One who pardons all. There 
is no sinner who may not hope to be forgiven ; it is this 
that gives us all courage.” 

“ Thanks, friend. Good-bye until to-morrow.” 

Five minutes later, Luke clambered up on the ImpS- 
riale of the omnibus. 

He got off at a corner and hurried toward the police 
station, first ascertaining that he was not followed. He 
at once made his way to the office of the Chef de la 
SScuritS, 

A policeman in uniform and several clerks were in 
an ante-room, on the wall of which hung a large 
map of Paris. This map had upon it many pencilled 
signs, intelligible only to the agents. 

“ Can I see the Chef?'^ asked Luke. 

“ On business ? ” was the question. 

“ Of course.” 

“ Give me your name, and I will say that you wish 
to make a report.” 

“ I am Luke, in the service.” 

“ Oh ! to be sure ! I know you now.” 

The clerk knocked. 

“ Come in ! ” 

The man entered and presently returned, saying : 

“You can go in now.” 


NANA’s DAUGHTEPw. 


355 


Luke took off his hat as he entered. 

“Well,” said the Chef^ “what have you to tell us 
about this d’Albigny? What is he doing now? It is 
time that this matter come to an end, for I am tired of 
both you and him.” 

“ I hope to have something to tell you to-morrow, 
sir.” 

“ Anything new, then ? ” 

“ I came, sir, to say that this will be the last affair 
which I shall have the honor of transacting for this 
Department. As to the Marquis, however, it will not 
be my fault if all is not settled to-morrow.” 

“ You have all the evidence you require, then? ” 

“ He is very adroit, sir, but I know him now, 
thoroughl3^ For twenty years he has been supported 
b}" Nana. Her H6tel is a gambling house where for- 
tunes are risked and lost. To-day their fortunes are 
failing, and for a year they have left no stone unturned 
to inveigle into their power an upright young girl, 
Nana’s daughter.” 

“ I know all about that. I know, too, that you are 
her father. As they have not succeeded, they can’t be 
arrested for that. You have not been able to catch the 
Marquis in any absolutely criminal deed?” 

“I know that the Marquis twenty-five years ago 
committed an act which should send him to the galley's. 
I heard him tell the story to Nana, he not knowing 
that I was where I could hear. The young girl, who 
was his victim, is probably living — in fact, 1 think I 
can lay my hand on her.” 

“As the Marquis told the story before you, it is for 
you to find proof and witnesses.” 

“ After twenty-five }^ears ! ” 

“If the victim can furnish adequate proof, and the 
Marquis can be accused of the crime, he may confess it.” 

“ The woman is thoroughly respectable.” 

“ Then she won’t speak ! ” 

“ I am not so sure of that, sir.” 

“We must see this person, and insist on her telling 
the truth.” 

22 


356 


nana’s daughter. 


“ It would be very dilBcult, sir. She has a son, and 
this son is to marry Nana’s daughter to-morrow, and 
the Marquis and Nana intend to make trouble at the 
Mairle"'^ 

“ Are you sure of this ? ” 

“ They have said so, distinctly.” 

“ But the mother of the young man will not be 
present? ” 

“ Oh ! yes, sir, she will.” 

“ Then she will be face to face with the villain. She 
will recognize and denounce him ! ” 

“I have done my best to induce her to promise this, 
but have obtained only a partial consent. I hope, how- 
ever, that her desire to insure her son’s happiness will 
induce her to sacrifice herself.” 

‘‘If she accuses him, arrest the man immediately. As 
to the woman, she cannot be arrested unless she makes 
a disturbance. In that case, you know what to do.” 

“ Perfectly, sir.” 

“You can go.. No, wait a moment, I have a ques- 
tion to ask. To what cause was the fire in Nana’s 
Hotel attributed ? ” 

“ Had the Hotel been insured I should have felt 
certain that they themselves had set it on fire, but 
there was no insurance on anything.” 

“ Did you know this before the fire ? ” asked the 
Chef abruptly, favoring Luke with a searching gaze as 
he spoke. 

“ No, sir, I did not,” answered Luke, feeling that he 
was treading on slippery ground. 

“Why did you ask to be entrusted with the surveil- 
lance of this house ? ” 

“ Because I hoped to do honest people a service by 
catching this man and woman at their tricks.” 

“ You have a personal enmity to gratify.” 

“ Yes, sir ; that is true. This woman hid my daugh- 
ter from me for eighteen years. I only knew where 
she was when her wretched mother was in pursuit of 
her for her own ends. Now, I feel that my day of 
vengeance is near at hand.” 

“Very well — that is all. When you have got 


N A N A ’ S DAUGHTER. 


S57 


through with these people, you can, if you are of the 
same mind, send in your resignation to Monsieur the 
Prefect.” 

Luke bowed low and departed. 

When he was in the street, he drew a long breath 
of relief. 

“Upon my word!” he murmured, “my ears burned 
pretty well then. One would think that man sus- 
pected me of setting the Hotel on fire.” 

He stood with folded arms, looking up at the Palais- 
de-Ju8tice'^ * 

He thought over all the criminal acts into which he 
had been led by his admiration for Nana. He carefully 
weighed all his deeds and found himself guilty. What 
a wretched life he had led all because of this woman. 
He longed to reassert himself, and under the influence 
of Addle Despretz become a man worthy of her respect. 

She had suffered intensely, as had he. He would 
try and bring back to her a little of her far away youth. 
Together they would try and forget these terrible years 
that had separated them. 

Her forgiveness elevated him in his own eyes and 
gave him strength to struggle upward once more. He 
felt thorough disgust at his past life, he saw clearly all 
his errors, and his admiration for Nana having van- 
ished he no longer felt any personal enmity toward 
the Marquis, and he was unwilling to act as a spy any 
longer upon him. 

His old generosity, and his former sense of honor 
returned to him, and he abhorred the duties which the 
Police Department exacted from him. 

But all at once he remembered the evil which Nana 
and the Marquis had attempted, and were about to 
attempt against all whom he loved, against Naviel who 
had saved his life, against dear little Andrde, and 
against the son of Addle Despretz. Then a brutal zeal 
assailed him. 

He thrust his thin hands into his pockets, and 
hastened toward Batignolles, saying to himself, half 
aloud : 

“ It is all right — yes — all right ! ” 


368 


nana's daughter. 


CHAPTER LIX. 
oh! happy day! 

T he next day Lncien Despretz awoke at six o’clock. 

He rose as noiselessly as possible in order not to 
disturb his mother, whose gentle breathing he had heard 
through her half open door. He went out to be 
shaved and to have his hair cut. 

The barber’s shop was just opened. The two assist- 
ants were busy with customers, the proprietor was at 
his desk, and his wife was watering the floor to keep 
down the dust. 

*‘Is it not to-day that you are to be married?” 
asked the woman, looking up, for she knew Madame 
Despretz, from having met her at the grocer’s and the 
butcher’s. 

“ Yes, Madame,” answered Lucien, as he took his 
seat in one of the empty chairs. 

The proprietor himself left his desk to wait upon 
him, and endeavored to make his silent customer talk, 
but Lucien did not gratify him. The barber, find- 
ing that to be the case, began to talk to his clerks and 
left the young man to his thoughts. Lucien remem- 
bered that this day, now beginning, would terminate 
either in his happiness or in a calamity which would 
leave him no other resource than suicide. 

The mystery of his birth and that of Andr^e trou- 
bled him excessively, for he did not believe Luke to be 
his father any more than he believed him to be Andrde’s. 

He did not know whether to look on this man as 
insane, or to regard him as Nana’s accomplice ; and 
now his mother herself seemed to be involved in mys- 
tery. What was the meaning of the extraordinary 
conversation, which she and Luke had held together iii 
the work-room at the Naviels’? His filial faith was 
shaken, and he suspected snares and duplicity on all 


nana’s daughter. 359 

sides, for this marriage had now become to Andr^e and 
himself a matter of life and death. 

He listened with inattentive ears to the thousand 
active noises about him, to the click of the scissors 
around his ears, to the gargon who was sharpening a 
razor, and to the customers who threw their money on 
the counter and passed out. 

All this busy life went on around Lucien, without in 
the least arousing him from his thoughts. 

He saw opposite him the pretty face of the dame au 
comptoir^ and near her a wax head in the show-case — 
with hair of the same shade and dressed in the same 
way — and hardly knew which was whicli. 

When he was shaved and his hair was cut, he hurried ' 
back to his mother, whom he found making the cotfee 
as usual, wearing the same black skirt, cut short enough 
to show her gray stockings and felt shoes, and having 
on a little cap, the strings of which fell over a striped 
dressing sacque. 

Lucien noticed that she looked even more weary 
than usual. 

Her thin hands trembled, and her eyes bore the 
traces of tears. 

“Are you ill, dear mother?” he asked, as he 
embraced her. 

“No, my son,” she said; “I am happy — on your 
account. Now, dress, for it is time ; or, if you prefer 
to take your breakfast first, 3"OU shall have it at once.” 

“ As you please, dear mother.” 

She brought his breakfast, he presently withdrew to 
make his toilette, and soon appeared before his mother 
again. 

“Ah! my boy,” she said, “I thought you would 
have taken more time to-day to make yourself beau- 
tiful.” 

She was also dressed, and wore a violet faille which 
had been in her wardrobe some time. She wore also 
light gloves and a black lace shawl. As she left the 
house she turned and threw her arms around her son’s 
neck. 


360 


nana’s daughter. 


“ This is the last time you will go out with me,” she 
said to him. “Your room will never be occupied 
again ! ” 

“ You will come and live with us ? ” 

“No — never, Lucien, never!” she answered vehe- 
mently. 

One of the carriages engaged for the wedding was 
waiting for them. 

The day was clouding up, and the wind was rising. 
Dust was coming down the streets in clouds, and shut- 
ters were blowing to and fro. Occasionally there was 
a crash of broken glass from the windows. 

Women were hurrying along close to the houses, 
fighting with the wind which wrapped their skirts 
around them. A stout gentleman ran to catch his hat, 
which kept along just the same distance in front of 
him for some time. The trees along the Boulevards 
were bent double in the blast. 

At Batignolles the tempest broke forth in all its vio- 
lence, just as Lucien and his mother descended from 
their carriage in front of the bride’s residence. There 
were two other carriages already there. The employes 
of the house where Lucien was engaged had been 
invited by him, while Monsieur Naviel had asked their 
family physician and his own old chef. 

Andree was ready when Lucien entered the salon. 
He had arrived before his groomsmen. She at once 
advanced to meet him without the smallest affectation, 
and he took both her hands in his and kissed them. 

“ At last I ” he said, quietly. 

He drew her to the balcony, where the two stood 
looking at the dark clouds, which floated over the sky 
like harbingers of woe. 

The wind howled dismally through the tall chestnuts 
on the Square, rustled among the poplars and lifted 
the long limbs of a weeping-willow by the water. 

Flocks of swallows passed, piercing the air with 
their sharp cries. 

“ It is weather for a funeral rather than for a wed- 
ding,” said Monsieur Naviel, who now made his appear- 


nana's daughter. 361 

ance, dressed all in black with the exception of white 
gloves and a white cravat. 

Lucien, who held in his the hand of his fiancee^ felt 
her start at these words. She scolded her father affec- 
tionately for speaking of a funeral on her wedding 
day. 

The work-women who had assisted Andr^e to dress, 
and who then retired to make their own toilettes, now 
reappeared, Margot the last among them. Her eyes 
were veiled by their heavy lids and long lashes, but in 
their depths lay a lurid flame. 

The groomsmen arrived. 

The clock of Sainte Marie struck eleven, and the 
sounds were almost like the tolling of a bell. 

“ What beastly weather ! ” sighed the Doctor. “ Cold 
as Greenland, and yet the middle of May ! ” 

He went up to the bride, whom he saluted with 
paternal gallantry. 

“Well, my child, how are you in these days?” he 
asked, and, without waiting for Andr^e’s reply, he 
continued, addressing Lucien : “ I was greatly startled 

the last time I was called on, for the asphyxia was 
nearly complete; the flowers had almost done their 
work and poisoned her. Fortunately, her constitution 
is superb, and I congratulate you on this, for it is no 
small matter in a wife.” 

Lucien quietly assented. 

In a few minutes the party went down-stairs, Andr^e 
entering the first carriage with the Doctor and Naviel’s 
former chef. Then followed four other carriages, filled 
with the work- women and friends. The sixth and last 
carriage contained Lucien, his mother, and Madame 
Naviel. 

All the neighbors turned out on the sidewalk to see 
the wedding procession and the bride. When they 
reached the Mairie^ they were shown into a waiting 
room, and, at noon, into the Salle des Mariages. 

Andr^e and Lucien stood near each other, waiting 
for the Mayor, who had not yet made his appearance. 
The room was chilly and very still, while without the 


362 nana’s daughter. 

tempest seemed to be increasinpr. The wind howled 
and rattled the windows, a sudden darkness fell upon 
the earth, and crows flew past, croaking hoarsely. 

Against the green background of the papered wall, 
a bust of the Republic gleamed wliitely. 

The Mayor, wearing his tri-colored scarf, adyanced 
gravely. The wedding party rose from their seats. 
The ceremony began ; it was simple and dignified. 
The representative of the law read aloud the articles of 
the Code regarding the obligations and the duties of 
husband and wife. Then, he asked the usual questions. 

To the young man he said : 

“Do you take this woman, Andr^e Naviel, for your 
lawful wife ? ” 

To this question, Lucien answered clearly and dis- 
tinctly : “ I do.” 

The magistrate then asked Andr^e the same ques- 
tion, to which she also replied in the affirmative. Then, 
the Mayor pronounced the sacramental words : 

“In the name of the Law, I pronounce you — ” 

“ Excuse me, sir,” cried a clear, ringing voice from 
the door, — “excuse me — I oppose this marriage.” 

And Nana haughtily swept- into the room, wearing a 
blue robe made with a train, and covered with English 
lace. She wa^ decked with gorgeous jewels, wearing 
bees in her ears, composed of emeralds, with diamond 
wings, and hanging on the arm of d’Albigny, Luke 
following. 

“ Who are you, Madame ? ” asked the Mayor. 

“ The mother of this girl,” Nana replied. “ The 
parents who figure here are only for the occasion. 
Behold the proof of what I say.” And she extended 
tlie letter from the Ai^sistance Puhlique^ stating that 
Andr^e had been admitted to the Hospice des Hnfants^ 
on August 14th, I860, on an order from the Commis- 
sioner of Police of the Arrondissemetit in which the 
woman, Nana, resided; that she had been brought there 
by Virginie, femme de chamhre to the former, and that 
Andr^e had been adopted by Pierre Naviel, engineer, 
who lived in the Rue Croisatiere^ on the 20th of the 
same month. 


N A N A ' S DAUGHTER. 363 

Wlien he had finished reading this paper, the Mayor 
said : 

“ Is Monsieur Naviel here ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, sir,” answered Andr^e’s adopted father, “ and 
it is I who, with my wife, have brought up and edu- 
cated this child, and if we are parents for the occasion, 
I think I may safely say that this woman here is no 
mother at all.” 

“ And you are Nana? ” asked the magistrate, address- 
ing the new comer. 

“I think you have seen me before, sir,” she answered 
impertinently. 

“Very well. You know that the law deprives you 
of all rights over your child. You have no claim upon 
her since the day you resigned her. The Commissioner 
before whom you made tlie declaration was careful, I 
am sure, to inform you of that fact. He told you that 
you gave her up entirely to the Assistance Puhlique^ 
which became your substitute as absolutely as if your 
daughter were an orphan and 3^011 dead.” 

“1 remember nothing of. all this, sir. I was so 
young at the time that I did not know what I was 
doing when I gave up my child. Now I know, and I 
suffer acutely at seeing her in such mercenary hands.” 

She pointed to Naviel, who turned his flashing eyes 
upon her. 

“ I believe,” he said, striking his breast with his pow- 
erful hand, “ that mercenary hands like these are more 
capable of bringing up a girl than such as 3"Ours — ” 

“ Don’t censure that woman. Monsieur Naviel,” said 
the magistrate. 

Then, addressing Nana again, he said : 

“ I am astonished, after the Commissioner of 3"our 
Arrondissement having once informed 3"ou of the regu- 
lations, and told you that you could neither see your 
daughter nor know where she is, I am astonished, 1 say, 
that the Assistance Fuhlique could have written you 
this letter, which seems to be an absolute contradiction 
of its own rules.” 

He handed the paper back to Nana, who thrust it 
into her pocket, as she said : 


364 


nana’s daughtek. 


“ Then, Monsieur, since my consent signifies nothing, 
I have a declaration to make, which you, perhaps, will 
take into consideration — ” 

Nana hesitated a moment. 

It was now so dark in the Salle that one of the 
huissiers lighted the gas. A painful silence pervaded 
the room, while without, the wind howled like Furies 
let loose. A shutter blew to and broke a pane of 
glass, which fell in fragments on the floor, the wind 
came through in a gust, which blew open the doors 
and extinguished the gas, leaving the room in almost 
absolute darkness. 

Luke went close to the side of Madame Despretz. 
Margot, with her right hand clenched under her shawl, 
stood directly behind Andr^e. 




NANA S DAUGHTER. 


365 


CHAPTER LX. 

MARGOT IS FAITHFUL. 

^^T^ELL!” said Nana, emphasizing each word as 
V V she spoke, “ I affirm that this young girl and 
this young man are children of the same father. To 
satisfy yourself of this fact, sir, you have only to ques- 
tion Madame Adele Despretz, now present. She will 
confirm my statement.” She laughed insolently, as she 
uttered these words. 

Luke said to Madame Despretz, in a low voice : 

“ Courage, Adele, courage. You must tell the truth 
now.” 

Lucien’s mother rose and came forward ; her eyes, 
fixed and implacable, were riveted on the Marquis 
d’Albigny. 

The gas was now lighted again, and revealed her 
nun-like pallor. 

There was a moment of solemn suspense. 

The rain was now dashing in floods against the 
windows. 

The light diffused through the polished globes 
shone on the anxious faces, glittered on the golden 
hair of Nana, and whitened the veil of the bride who 
seemed a very vision of loveliness. 

“I ask permission from the Mayor to make a public 
statement,” said Madame Despretz, in a low voice. 

“ Speak, Madame.” 

“The father of my son is not the man of whom 
Madame has just spoken.” 

“ Indeed ! ” sneered Nana. “ Then you were not 
such a person as you would have had us believe ! ” 

“Permit me to continue, Madame, although it is 
not to you that I make this painful confession. When 
I was very young, sir, I was courted for some time by 
a handsome youth of good family, who called himself 


366 nana’s daughter. 

a Marquis. This man did his best to make me forget 
my duty, and to rob me of my peace of mind. He 
promised marriage, and seemed to be so much in love 
with me that I learned to love him in return, though 
never once was I tempted to forget myself.” 

Adele Despretz stopped speaking here, for, great as 
was her love for her son, her pride and womanl}^ dignity 
were cruelly wounded by the step she was now taking. 

D’Albigny walked forward, and fixed his eyes with 
supreme insolence on this martyr who, without being 
in the least intimidated, continued : 

“ This man, whom I was imprudent enough to let see 
the ascendancy he had won, was, however, unable to 
conquer me, and finally laid a trap for me. You, sir, 
will not insist on my saying more than this. Suffice 
it to say that in defending myself I wounded him on 
the neck, and I am sure that he bears the scar to 
this day.” 

“ And did you never know this man’s name ? Why 
did you not file a complaint against him ? ” 

“ The name by which I knew him, sir, was not his 
own, and I dared not complain to my parents. Before 
the birth of my child, they drove me from their house. 
Now, however, circumstances and the false statement 
of this woman compel me to make this avowal, and 
here before you stands the criminal, whom I now 
denounce ! ” 

With a menacing gesture, she pointed to the Marquis. 

Lucien Despretz, who was deadly pale, started for- 
ward with clenched fists. 

“I will kill you ! ” he exclaimed to d’Albigny. 

“ Stop, my son ! ” said Adele Despretz, calmly ; ‘‘you 
cannot fight with a convict ! ” 

“ This comedy,” replied d’Albigny, “ is wonderfully 
well conceived, and equally well carried out. These 
good people, your Honor, have evidently arranged this 
little plot long since, in order to blackmail the Marquis 
d’Albigny — but the Marquis d’Albigny is not a man to 
be blackmailed, do you know that. Monsieur Lucien — 
whatever your name may be? As for you, Madame, 


N ana's daughter. 367 

your statement is ridiculous; I never fancied grand- 
mothers.” 

Ad^le Despretz walked up to the Marquis. With 
one dexterous movement she tore off his cravat and 
collar. 

“There is the proof!” she cried. 

A long scar appeared on the neck of the Marquis. 

“ Look at that ! ” she gasped. “ Look at that, Mon- 
sieur Naviel ; look, gentlemen ! And you, too, Lucien, 
son as }■ ou are of this villain I ” 

“ Tut ! tut ! ” said d’Albigny, white with rage ; “you 
make altogether too much noise. You are mad withal, 
and I advise your friends to place you in — ” 

He stopped, for a long hand was laid on the collar of 
his coat. 

He turned and saw his valet Luke, standing behind 
him. The expression of this man’s face had totally 
changed. A baleful fire burned in his eyes. 

“ I arrest you in the name of the Law, Marquis 
d’Albigny ! ” he said. 

“ You, you rascal I And by what right? ” 

“ Because I know you to be the perpetrator of the 
crime of which this poor woman was the victim. I 
know, too, that you are guilty from having heard the 
story told by you to 3 ^our accomplice. 1 know, also, 
that you tried to abduct Mademoiselle Andr^ie Naviel ! ” 

“It is false!” cried the Marquis, “and you have no 
right to arrest me. Let me go or I will break your 
skull against the wall ! ” 

“ If you want a little help, comrade,” said Naviel, 
drawing near, “ I am ready, and that gentleman knows 
whether I have a strong hand or not!” 

“ This scene must come to an end,” interrupted the 
Mayor. “ I cannot suffer such things here.” 

“ Monsieur,” answered Luke, “ I am only doing my 
duty. I belong to the force. Here is my badge.” 

“All right; take this man to the station.” 

Two policemen in uniform now appeared and led off 
d’Albigny, whose arrogance had totally deserted him. 
His knees trembled, and he was deadly pale as he 
meekly walked away. 


368 


nana's daughter. 


Nana contemptuously turned aside from this specta- 
cle of humiliation, and, addressing the Mayor, she said : 

“I did not wish to denounce the Marquis, but 
la belle Andr^e once fascinated him — ” 

“ It is false I Nana, do you wish to ruin me ? ” cried 
d’Albign}^ “ It is false, I say.” 

The policemen hustled him from the room, but his 
voice was still heard repeating the same words : 

“ It is false ! The woman lies ! ” 

“It is not false,” said Nana, calmly, “and I — ” 

While Nana was speaking, Margot, the florist, had 
silently crept nearer. Her round eyes glittered 
strangely. She kept her right hand under her shawl. 

“ Take that ! ” she cried, suddenly, and, with a quick 
movement, she threw in Nana’s face the contents of 
a vial of vitriol. 

Nana uttered a terrible shriek and fell to the floor, 
writhing in agony. 

Several men came in and carried her awayl Margot 
was arrested. 

The ceremony, interrupted by this succession of 
dramatic incidents, was rapidl}^ concluded. 

When the Mayor pronounced the final syllables, 
Lucien offered his arm to his wife and took her away, 
followed by the rest of the wedding party. 

Andr^e, leaning on the arm of him who was to be 
from this time forward her inseparable friend, felt 
strengthened and hopeful. 

Nothing could ever trouble her again. Life opened 
before her with richness and beauty. She had sup- 
ported the calumnies and insults heaped upon her by 
her own mother with calm disdain. She had escaped 
the various perils prepared for her by a wretched 
creature. She had resisted the appeals of her own 
nature, and the instincts she had inherited. 

The victory, won by her strong will and by the 
education she had received had been strengthened in 
her by the powerful example of honesty and industry 
which she had always had before her. 

When she appeared at the head of the steps without 


nana’s daughter. 369 

the Mairie^ the crowd that had gathered outside the 
gates uttered a cry of admiration. 

The clouds, scattered by the wind, fled before it east- 
ward like a flight of crows. 

' The rain had ceased. 

A ray of sunshine rested on Andree’s fair head. 
Her diaphanous veil surrounded her like a cloud, and 
on her lovely lips was a sweet smile. 

She descended the steps on her husband’s arm, and 
as she moved her slender feet and the grace of her step 
were seen. 

The crowd received her with a positive ovation. 

Hardly had she entered the carriage than a litter, 
borne by four men, on which lay a woman with her 
face wrapped in linen and uttering groans of agony and 
despair, was carried past her. 

“ It was well done ! ” hissed the crowd. 

“ Poor woman ! ” sighed Andr^e, with tears in her 
eyes, as she looked down on her wedding ring, and tried 
to close her ears to these agonized shrieks with which 
the street resounded. 

Lucien saw that Andr^e was depressed by the terri- 
ble punishment which had overtaken this unhappy 
creature, whose living image she was. He took her 
dainty hands in his and kissed their rosy Anger tips. 

All the wedding guests now took their seats in their 
carriages, the white horses attached to which, gaily 
decorated with rose-colored ribbons, started off on a 
trot and soon drew up before the Naviels’. 


370 


NANA S DAUGHTER 


CHAPTER LXL 


WOE AND AGONY 



ANA’S misfortune was irreparable. The vitriol 


had burned her eyes from the sockets — her nose 
was destroyed as by a cancer. Her lip was drawn up 
and disclosed her teeth, which were hopelessly cor- 
roded. And this was the end of her fatal beauty ! 

Since d’Albigny’s arrest and the disaster to his 
accomplice, the hotel in the Avenue Freidland had 
gone to ruin. 

Mulhausen, compelled to verify the accounts of the 
Marquis, had discovered a considerable deficit, and at 
once filed a complaint against his ex-associate. 

In vain did he attempt to carry on the journal. He 
reduced all the expenses, but saw that he must soon 
stop unless new funds could be provided. 

Demands for money came from all quarters. D’Al- 
bigny had exhausted his credit, and claimants became 
arrogant and abusive — subscribers withdrew, and it 
was evident that the end was near. 

On June 15th appeared the last number of the 
Gazette des Coulisses, 

Mulhausen, tormented by creditors and not having 
more than a hundred thousand francs in the world, left 
France for Germany, where his heavily mortgaged 
property was offered for sale. 

Nana refused to see any one — although she, too, amid 
her horrible physical agony was besieged by creditors 
of whose existence she was previously unaware. Notes 
fell from the clouds upon her, and her calamity did not 
even allow her to verify the signatures. 

She pawned all her jewels, which Virginie earned 
to the Mont de PiStS. 

The femme de chamhre took advantage of this 
opportunity to make a little provision for her old age. 


N ana’s daughter. 


871 


On the 15th of July Nana was nearly penniless. 
Almost all the servants, scenting approaching ruin, 
had asked for their wages a week before. Virginie 
alone remained, determined to gather up all she could 
of the former opulence of this woman, and hovered 
around Nana like a hungrj^ bird of prey. 

A week later, Nana received a notification that she 
was to pay to her landlord the sum of six thousand 
' francs, under penalty of having her furniture seized in 
the name of the Law. 

Wlien Virginie read this summons aloud, Nana in a 
rage leaped from her bed to which her sufferings still 
confined her. Stumbling against a light chair, she 
caught it up and flung it against a long Louis Quinze 
mirror, which was broken into atoms. 

Then, as if the crash had aroused within her a very 
demon of destruction, Nana tore down the curtains, 
and demolished everything she could get hold of. 

“ Madame is mad ! ” said Virginie coldly, looking on 
with folded arms. 

“ Mad, am I? ” shrieked Nana, and taking the woman 
by the shoulders she shook her violently and threw 
her on the bed. 

Virginie quickly gathered herself up, and, going to 
the door, said : 

“Very well. Since it is thus that Madame sees fit 
to reward my fidelity, I am going away ! ” 

These words brought before Nana’s imagination such 
a fearful picture of abandonment and solitude that she 
threw herself in front of the door. 

“Ah ! do not leave me ! ” she cried. “Without you 
I should die of hunger. What could I do if I were 
alone now? ” 

“ That, Madame, is none of my business. You can 
engage another femme de chambre. I can’t, and I 
won’t, stay here to be treated in this way.” 

“ Where shall I go to find another woman ? I am 
alone, blind, and abandoned by everybody. Tell me, 
what am I to do? No, you only say this to get higher 
wages. Very well — I will double them.” 

23 


372 


nana’s daughter. 


“With what? Madame has not five Louis in the 
house.’’ 

“ I will sell the horses, then.” 

“ They are sold already.” 

“ I Avill sell the furniture.” 

“ The landlord claims it.” 

“My jewels — ” 

“Are all at the Mont de PiStSy 

“ My dresses — ” 

“Are the landlord’s, as well as the furniture. 
Actually, you have nothing, and it is not likely, in 
the state in which you are, that — ” 

“And you can leave me in this way? Virginie, you 
have made a fortune under my roof — your future is 
safe. Stay, then, with me ; if not for what I can give 
you now, for what I have given you in the past.” 

“Madame is mistaken in saying that 1 have made a 
fortune with her. I have been too devoted to her 
interests to think of mine.” 

“Stay, then, out of friendship for your old friend 
Nana. You will stay, dear Virginie ? Stay.” 

In imploring her femme de chamhre not to abandon 
her, this woman employed the coaxing voice of other 
days, but her very tones had changed, and the injury 
'to her lips imparted a singular hissing sound to her 
words. She held Virginie’s hand in her's, which trem- 
bled at the idea of remaining alone in this house, which 
would soon be invaded by creditors, and from which she 
would be driven by the landlord. Where, then, could 
she go? Whom could she ask for shelter and for 
bread? There would be no place for her, but at the 
Prefectures among other beggars who went there 
for aid. 

“ I have told Madame what I meant to do,” said 
Virginie, “ and I am free, I suppose. I do not choose 
to serve Madame any longer.” 

Then Nana, vanquished by despair, fell at this 
woman’s feet, and, sobbing hysterically, she cried ; 

“ Forgive me, Virginie, forgive me ! This is what 
you want, is it not? You wish me to humiliate myself 


N ana’s daughter. 373 


before you. So be it, then ; I am on my knees, and ask 
you for mercy.” 

“ I have no grudge against Madame, but I ask her to 
forgive me, because it is impossible for me to remain 
with her any longer.” 

Saying this with excessive coldness, Virginie tried to 
withdraw the hand which Nana held. She could not 
do it, however, as her mistress clutched it as a ship- 
wrecked mariner clutches the plank that lies between 
himself and eternity. 

“You shall not go ; I will keep you here a prisoner ! ” 

“I should like to know if I am to be bought and 
sold? I have a right to leave any house whenever I 
choose, particularly one where I have been treated as I 
have been here ! ” 


She tried again to release herself. 

But Nana held her skirts firmly. 

“ You shall not go ! ” she repeated, hoarsely. 

Virginie, in her turn, was now seized with a fit of 
passion. She bent her head until her teeth grasped one 
of Nana’s fingers, which she bit until the hand loosed 
its hold, and Nana, dizzy with pain, fell back on the 
floor. 

Then Virginie, impelled by a blind thirst for ven- 
geance, knelt by her side and loosened the long hair of 
her mistress. The splendor of these tresses was still 
intact. They were all that remained to Nana of her 
former beauty. She had formed a habit of pulling her 
hair over her face to conceal the devastation made by 
Margot’s murderous hand. 

Then Virginie took from her pocket a pair of scissors 
which she always carried about her. She looked at the 
silken wonder of this abundant hair, then gathering 
it all together in one hand, which could hardly hold 
it, she opened her scissors, which, however, were inca- 
pable of overcoming this silken resistance. Virginie 
then separated the hair into long tresses, which she cut 
one after the other. All this time Nana lay uncon- 
scious. 

When Virginie had accomplished this dastardly act, 


she rolled the hair around her left arm, and bore it 
away as a trophy. 

By degrees, Nana’s senses came back, but all was 
dark before her. She called : 

“ Virginie ! Virginie ! ” 

There was no sound in reply, but from a distance 
came the endless noises of the great city. 

She heard the clock strike one. She recognized this 
clock. Many a time she had heard it, when passing 
the church in her blue coupe drawn by large English 
horses, and driven by a coachman in her livery. 

“ Virginie ! Virginie ! ” she cried again. There was 
no reply ; the girl had gone. Nana struggled to her 
feet, and was amazed to find her head so light. She 
put up her hands, and uttered a cry of rage on finding 
what had been done. The cry resounded through the 
empty hotel with dismal echoes. 


nana’s daughter. 375 


CHAPTER LXIL 

RETRIBUTION. 

N ana ran with bare feet all over the house, 
unconscious, apparently, of the many things she 
hit against, and uttering hoarse cries as she passed from 
room to room, where her voice awakened a strange, 
unnatural echo. 

She entered the dining-room, and, feeling her way 
by the wall, reached the buffet. She was hungry, and 
at the same time, felt a terrible apprehension that she 
should not find even a bit of bread, in this house given 
over to the pillage of untrustworthy servants, friends 
and parasites. In the buffet she found only half a 
dozen glasses, which did not feel to her like her own, 
as she sounded them with her thumb nail. 

Her Baccarat service and her Sevres porcelain had all 
disappeared ! She crept down to the kitchen ; the meat 
safe was empty. Several empty saucepans were rest- 
ing on the furnace. 

She returned to her chamber, and passed through it 
to her dressing-room ; a silk skirt lay on the floor. She 
opened her wardrobe and felt the nails, on which she 
found that at least a dozen dresses were still hanging. 

Mismated satin slippers and boots were scattered 
about ; white skirts were huddled together, and on a 
chair lay a hat, the strings of which fell to the floor and 
mingled with silk stockings of different colors, and a 
black lace mantilla, this she took to wrap about her 
head. 

She put on six of her dresses, one over the other ; 
found some shoes and stockings, and dressed herself as 
best she could. The wounds she had received on her 
hand and fingers caused her absolute agony, but she 
persevered. She knew where the key of the gate hung, 
and took it down. 

Twenty minutes later she was outside waiting for a 


376 


nana’s daughter. 


carriage. She ordered the man to drive to the house 
of Saint-Amand, an old companion who had turned 
over a new leaf, and now kept a little shop in la Rue 
Provence. 

Saint-Amand did not recognize Nana at first, but 
presently realized who her visitor was, and also why 
she had come. She took her into the back shop, and 
was really very kind. 

They had not ^een a great deal of each other in the 
days of their splendor because they disputed too much ; 
but now, when the hour of decline had sounded for 
both, they were disposed to help each other. 

“ I bring you all I have left,” said Nana, as she took 
off her dresses, one after the other. They were all 
nearly new. One of them was light blue, she had worn 
it on the day of Andr^e’s wedding, and it was eaten by 
the vitriol in several places on the corsage. 

Saint-Amand examined them minutely in succession. 
She carried them to the light that she might judge of 
their freshness and their tint. 

“I will give you five hundred francs for the lot,” 
said the woman. 

“Very good,” answered Nana, who had acquired the 
habit of never discussing money matters. She put the 
five hundred francs in her pocket, and Saint-Amand 
went out to the carriage with her. 

“If you recover,” said the woman, •“come and see 
me again. If not, I will buy all the pawn tickets you 
wish to sell. Only be on your guard, and keep your 
jewels on your person, or you run the risk of their 
being seized.” 

When she left this woman, Nana drove to a cele- 
brated restaurant, where she expended a Louis and 
gave two francs to the gar^on who put her in her 
carriage. 

She said to the coachman, as in the days of her 
splendor : “ Home ! ” 

When, however, she was again in her empty hotel, 
she was crushed by her loneliness. For a few moments, 
the noise of the street, the fresh air and the good meal 
she had made lifted the load from her spirits. There 


Nana’s daughter. 877 

was a break in the clouds, which, however, soon massed 
together again. 

She shivered with dread of the future, when she 
was again in the house and alone. Toward night the 
physical sufferings which she had conquered for a time, 
thanks to the nervous energy of her nature, were again 
victorious. She took refuge in her bed, where she 
tossed all night with fever. 

Finally, she slept from sheer exhaustion. About 
nine o’clock in the morning she was awakened by a 
loud ring at the bell. 

“ It is Virginie I ” she thought. “ It is Virginie back 
again ! ” And invigorated by the sleep she had 
enjoyed, she hastily dressed to open the street door. 

“Is it here that Madame Nana lives?” asked a 
voice that was unknown to her. 

“I am Nana,” she answered, coldly; “what do you 
want ? ” 

“We come to inform you that there is a judgment 
against you, and that I, Maitre Bonasse, Huissier, 
assisted by the Commissioner of Police, have come to 
seize your goods and chattels.” 

Behind the Huissier and the Commissioner were two 
witnesses and a clerk. 

The five men had taken care to place themselves in 
the doorway in such a manner that it could not be 
abruptly closed in their faces. 

Nana, restraining her anger as best she could, said, 
simply, moving aside as she spoke : 

“ Come in.” 

The men at once entered the hotel. 

This was the final blow. 

They made an inventory of all the ddbris of this 
vanished splendor. 

The Huissier, Monsieur Bonasse, was a type of his 
class, short, stout and cleanly shaven, he wore a white 
cravat, loosely knotted around his throat, a long, well- 
worn coat and pantaloons which shone at the knees; 
his shoes were large and cut very low. He looked like 
the curd of some country village when he smiled and 
spread out his fat hands. 


378 nana's daughter. 

Monsieur Bonasse left no corner unexamined, and 
looked into every wardrobe and drawer. 

Nana took refuge at once in her chamber, in order to 
secure her pawn-tickets. Monsieur Bonasse followed 
her to prevent her from taking anything away. She 
shut the door in his face. 

“ Do what you choose,” she said. “ Take what you 
please anywhere else in the house, but into this room 
you shall not set your foot. I am dressing.” 

Instead of dressing, she threw herself on her bed. 

Her finger had swollen since tlie night before, and 
pained her intensely. Mental and pliysical agony 
made her life intolerable. 

She felt strangely weak and helpless, and lay listen- 
ing to the voice of Monsieur BonaSvse, who in d'Al- 
bigny’s room next her own was dictating to his clerk : 

“ First, two arm-chairs in green velvet and ebonized 
pear wood. Second, four chairs to match. Third, an 
ebony bureau inlaid with lacquer work.” The man’s 
voice now died away in an indistinguish^ible murmur, 
as he moved further from her door. 

Nana began' to feel hungry again. She had not 
eaten since her breakfast at the Restaurant. Hardl}^ 
knowing what she did, she rang her bell. The Huissier 
profited by this thoughtlessness on her part to enter 
the room. 

“Madame will excuse us,” he said, “and permit us 
to look around here.” 

He stood near the door. Finding that Nana did not 
answer, he advanced. 

“ I should be much obliged to you, sir,” she said, 
“if you would send one of your men to get me some- 
thing to eat. I am dying of hunger and thirst.” 

“ Excuse me, Madame, that is not in the line of our 
duties,” he replied. 

He uttered these words with immense pomposity, 
and then directed the Inventory to be continued, the 
Huissier dictating and the Clerk writing. 

Nana still wore over her head and face the black lace 
mantilla with which she had hidden herself the pre- 
vious evening, and the clerk, who was very young, 


supposed this woman lying there to be of superhuman 
beauty. 

Presently she murmured : 

“Ah! how hungry I am! Would that I had a 
morsel of bread ! ” 

Her courage had deserted her. Her physical suffer- 
ings of the previous night and this sudden invasion of 
these officers of the Law took from her every ray of 
hope. She was crushed and desperate. 

When the Huissier had gone through the house he 
retired with his men, and Nana was again alone in this 
immense and oppressively silent hotel. 

She had just decided that she must go and find some- 
thing to eat at a Restaurant, when she heard a light 
step outside her door. 

Some one knocked and then came in. 

It was the young clerk, who carried under his arm a 
pint bottle of common wine and a loaf of bread. 

“ I have brought you these, Madame,” he said, 
timidly. 

“ And who are you ? ” she asked. 

“ I am the clerk.” 

“Oh! yes; Bonasse, the Huissier’s clerk! Well! 
what do you want?” 

“ I brought you bread and wine, because you said 
you were hungry, Madame.” 

“ Thanks ! give them to me.” 

She raised her lace in order to eat, but with such 
care that he could catch no glimpse of her face ; but 
she could not break the bread, on account of the pain 
of her finger. He assisted her, and as he touched her 
the young man shivered. When her hunger was 
appeased she drew her veil closely over her lace, and 
said: 

“Thank you, my good boy. I shall never forget 
your kindness.” 

“ But,” he murmured, “ may I not — ” 

She uttered a frenzied laugh. 

“Take this,” she said. “1 owe you something, of 
course. Men always exnect a reward.” And she 
tossed him a louis. 


S80 


NANA's DAUaHTER. 


CHAPTER LXIIL 

THE TRIAL. 

E arly in July d’Albigny was tried. Margot, the 
florist, was also tried at the same term. These 
two cases attracted a great deal of attention, and 
brought large crowds to the Palais de Justice, It 
was known that Nana was a witness in both. 

The women were curious to see her ruin. They 
were impatient, too, to hear more of this Luke, whose 
double r61e seemed to the world most peculiar and 
needless. 

Andrde and Lucien were obliged to leave the villa 
they had hired on the seashore to give their testimony. 

Madame Despretz was also summoned, and it was 
clear that her testimony could not fail to be interesting. 

A certain number of seats were reserved in the Tri- 
bunes for people of distinction, whose especial interest 
was in d’Albigny. 

They had met him everywhere. He was a member 
of their club ; they had driven with him in the Bois de 
Boulogne,^ and dined with him at the tables of fashion- 
able and mutual friends. 

They were curious to see how he would behave in 
this new experience. 

When the accused entered, the crowd in the Tribunes 
arose as by a simultaneous movement. 

There was a cry of “Silence! ” from the Huissiers, 
and then a long continued rustle as the women seated 
themselves. 

After the accusation was read in due form, the 
President said to d’Albigny: 

“ The accused will now rise.” 

The Marquis obeyed, and every eye was fixed on his 
tall and still elegant figure. 

He had grown very old during that confinement of 


nana's daughtek. 


381 


the last few weeks. His moustache and whiskers had 
become almost white, and in the corners of his eyes 
several new wrinkles had made their appearance. 

As he arose he looked toward the Tribunes. His 
attention was recalled by the President, who said, 
curtly : 

“Your name, if you please?” 

He answered in a low voice. 

“ Your place of birth ? ” 

“Paris.” 

“ Your age?” 

“ I was jborn in J uly, 1833 ; I am, therefore, forty- 
seven.” 

“ You have known a Mademoiselle Adele Despretz?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Under what circumstances?” 

“ I was young and rich — this girl was a glove-vender 
in the Passage de V Opera, She accepted the offers I 
made her, and the presents which I gave her. Her 
consent was voluntary. As to this person of the same 
name who wishes to take advantage of this accident to 
blackmail me, I can only say that I never saw her 
before.” 

“ And yet, this woman made, voluntarily, on the day 
of her son’s marriage, a statement which no woman 
could have made unless compelled to do it by the 
necessity of securing her son’s marriage.” 

“ Of course, I see that ; but this does not prove that 
what she said was true.” 

“ How do you explain her knowing you after this 
lapse of years ? ” 

“ I do not explain it. I simply assert that she lied.” 

“ That is easy to say. Did she not speak of a wound 
and of a scar on your throat, and say that it was she 
who made it in self-defence ? How could she divine the 
existence of this scar, hidden as it was by your collar, 
unless she knew of it ? ” 

“ She had been told by a former admirer of hers — a 
man who was my valet and is now my accuser. It 
was this man who arrested me. You may easily com- 


382 


nana’s daughter. 


prehend, Monsieur le President, that people who arm 
their work-women with vitriol are not likely to be 
deterred by perjury. All measures seemed to them 
good when used against the mother who claimed her 
child, and against the last remaining friend of this 
mother.” 

Nana rose in her seat, her face and head swathed in 
folds of black lace, and exclaimed, as she extended her 
arm toward d’Albigny: 

“ I am not your friend ! ” 

The Marquis took no notice of this interruption, but 
continued : 

“ They have used this young girl as an instrument 
to make their fortunes ! ” 

“ Enough, sir ! You are not here to accuse others, 
or even to defend yourself. You are here to acknowl- 
edge the truth, not to disguise it. Now, sit down. 
When I have other questions to ask, you will reply to 
them.” 

The accused seated himself. 

The principal witnesses were Madame Despretz, 
Nana, Luke, Andree, Lucien and Naviel. 

Madame Despretz was first summoned. 

Her deposition was brief, but crushing. 

“I have nothing to add to the solemn declaration,” 
she said, “ which I made before the Mayor on the day 
of my son’s marriage. The Court will understand 
that the declaration was excessively painful to me. I 
repeat that I made the acquaintance of that man”-— 
she pointed to d’Albigny — when 1 was a glove-vender 
in the Passage de V Opera. I have found two letters 
written to me by him, and bearing that address. They 
are not signed, but if the writing is compared with 
that of Monsieur d’Albigny, I am inclined to believe 
that no one will hesitate in pronouncing them to be the 
same.” 

She said no more. 

The President read these letters, and then handed 
them to an expert to be compared with papers written 
by d’Albigny, and taken from his desk. 


nana’s daughter. 


■383 


After a minute examination, the expert declared 
that both letters and papers were written by the same 
person. 

The Marquis arose and cried out, with evident 
emotion : 

“ I swear that these letters are forgeries ! ” 

As he spoke he extended his hand toward the large 
ivory crucifix which hung over the seat of the Judge. 

“ Do not speak again,” said the President, with con- 
siderable severity, “unless you are addressed by me.” 

“ Madame Nana, rise, if you please,” the Court 
continued. 

“ I do not know what this man is not capable of,” 
she said, bitterly. “ He has robbed me systematically 
for years. I know now that he has signed my name to 
notes, that he has forged my name, I mean. I beg the 
Court to compare my signature with these. Allow the 
expert to examine them, if you please. It has already 
been done by persons in whose judgment and expe- 
rience I have the most entire reliance. I have been 
robbed, I repeat, and I have paid note after note fabri- 
cated by this scoundrel ! ” 

D’Albigny turned very pale and rose from his seat, 
although the guard on either side tried to prevent him. 

“ It is false ! It is false, wretched creature ! ” he 
cried. “ I pray the Court to take for what it is worth 
the assertion of this woman, Nana. She came here 
because she knew I had quitted her, after she had 
bankrupted me.” 

“Compel the accused to sit down,” said the President. 

D’Albigny obeyed. 

“ Let the next witness, Luke, approach,” said the 
Court. 

Luke rose while Nana was being led back to her seat. 
He wore a long coat and gloves. He began to speak 
very slowly, as if to torture the Marquis as much as 
possible : 

“ I was valet de chambre to Madame Nana, and par- 
ticularly attached to the service of the Marquis d’Al- 
bigny, who has been supported by this woman, as I 


384 


nana’s daughter. 


may say, en fassant^ for years. I have been fully aware 
of this gentleman’s ideas in regard to Mademoiselle 
Naviel, now Madame Despretz the younger. He, on 
one occasion — the day of the fire — locked her in the 
boudoir^ and was nearly the cause of her death. She 
was rescued by one of Madame Nana’s friends, in 
whom she found a good-hearted man and a brave 
defender.” 

“ Confine yourself to that which has a direct bearing 
on this matter, sir,” said the Court. “ The moments 
of this tribunal are very precious. Did you, or did you 
not, hear the accused make any statement in regard to 
Mademoiselle Ad^le Despretz, a glove-vender in the 
Passage de V 0 per a f''"’ 

“ I heard him tell the whole story, sir ; which story, 
as he told it, confirmed that of Madame Despretz. 
That lady had called on Madame Nana to implore her 
to throw no obstacle in the way of her daughter and 
the young man, Lucien Despretz, whom she wished to 
marry. Madame Nana would make no promise, and 
bade me summon the Marquis. Then Madame Des- 
pretz, who did not wish to meet the man who had 
nearly killed her son, retired. If she had remained, 
she would have recognized this man at once, which 
would have prevented the trouble which took place the 
day of the marriage. To go back, however : I went 
for the Marquis. Madame Nana was making some 
change in her toilette, in order to go with the Marquis 
to look at the last hotel they occupied, and into wliich 
they were then about to move. While she was dress- 
ing, the Marquis told her this story about Adele, 
precisely as I have rendered it in my written report.” 

“Very good; sit down. Madame Nana, do you 
remember these details ? Are they correct ? ” 

“ Entirely so.” 

“ Madame Andrde Despretz ? ” 

Andree came forward. 

Happiness had made her radiantly beautiful. She 
wore a pale gray silk, trimmed with black lace ; black 
gloves came up to her elbows to meet the lace-trimmed 


4 


nanaVs daughter. 


386 


sleeves; a broad brimmed hat of black straw was 
trimmed with black feathers, and a fan, also black, 
hung at her side ; her skirt was scant in front, and 
somewhat short, allowing her pretty feet in their black 
satin boots to be seen. 

A buzz of admiration went round the court room, as 
she rose in all her beauty of youth and happiness. 

“The Court wishes your testimony on a delicate 
point, Madame,” said the President. “ I wish to ask if 
the accused was as despicable toward you as he seems 
to have been toward Madame Despretz ? ” 

“No, sir, he was not. What his intentions were you 
can judge when I tell you that he would not permit me 
to leave the hotel, or the room in which he locked me. 
I cannot accuse him of more than threats.” 

“Very well; resume your seat, Madame. Your 
testimony, brief as it is, is ample proof of premeditated 
villainy.” 

The other depositions were without direct import- 
ance, although they showed the brutal character of the 
accused, and defined his position in regard to Nana. 

The jury saw this at once. 

The Marquis realized the depth to which he had 
fallen, and knew that nothing could save him. His 
wretched Past was made as clear as noonda}\ He had 
long felt that he was beyond the reach of the Law, 
whose iron hand had now reached out and seized him. 

Suddenly a black shadow fell upon the accused. He 
looked up and saw that the Procureur of the Republic 
had risen, ready to sustain the accusation. 


386 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER LXIV. 

THE SENTENCE. 

T he Public Prosecutor addressed the Court in the 
following terms : 

“May it please the Court, your Honor sees, in the 
dock before you, a man whom fortune favored on his 
entrance into this world. He was born in a rank 
where Honor is Religion, and has lived all his life a 
renegade to this faith, out of which there is no salvation 
for a gentleman. 

“ It is well that those who are entrusted with the 
administration of Justice should speak loudly enough 
to be heard in the charmed circles of fashion, and say 
that to be a man of honor it is not enough to carry a 
sword and use it bravely. Debts must be paid, promises 
and engagements fulfilled to live with respectability. 

“ What is the moral worth of this man before you ? 
To what social category does he belong? When he was 
young, we see that he bankrupted himself for Nana ; 
later, he lived in the house of this woman, and was 
supported by her. We see how he became her prime 
counsellor, how he invested her money, how he specu- 
lated at the Bourse^ how he gambled at the club and 
under her roof, how he helped her in all her nefarious 
plotting, and, finally, how he aided this miserable 
mother to carry out her plans in regard to her daughter 
— the daughter whom he had compelled her to desert. 

“ I have simply sketched for your benefit, gentlemen 
of the Jury, the salient points of his career. I have 
not related to you the fortunate duels — for duels are 
called fortunate, when a man kills his adversary — I have 
told you of none of these things, all of which were 
brought to pass by the influence of this woman, whose 
name — Nana — has become so widely known. 

“ Sometimes she wished to get rid of some admirer, 


nana’s daughter. 


887 


whose money had all slipped through her fingers. He 
was poor, and, therefore, troublesome. Sometimes 
she wished to revenge herself on some man who had 
wounded her vanity. It was in this way that Mon- 
sieur Stog, Postmaster General, was killed. He was 
one of the most honorable of men, and to-day his 
family are in poverty, having as their sole subsistence 
the small pension granted by the State. 

“ Monsieur Stog was wrong in thinking that the life 
of a man like himself should be risked in a duel with a 
scoundrel like this one, who was the mere tool of an 
adventuress. He paid with his life for the mistake he 
made. His nature was too chivalric for the days in 
which he lived. 

“ This, perhaps, is an appropriate occasion to give 
utterance to our opinion in regard to a class, which so 
many men of talent have done their best to invest 
with sickly sentimentality and romance. 

“• I shall not speak now of those unhappy creatures 
who, by a fatality or through a misfortune, have been 
drawn into wrong paths, and who, having once stum- 
bled, are unable to rise again, and are forever after con- 
demned to live apart from other women, and who 
know nothing of a home and domestic happiness. The 
misery of these women, their degradation and the 
liideous old age which awaits them are so severe, and 
so terrible a punishment for their misdeeds — so certain 
a punishment — that it is not necessary tor me to point 
it out. 

I speak now of that large class who, by a certain 
superficial education and a quickness ot perception and 
mental faculties, should have avoided these quicksands 
of life, but who, instead, prefer luxury and what they 
call gayety to mediocrity. 1 speak of those wlio delib- 
erately select their lives, not driven into them by hun- 
ger, who start with the intention of bankrupting all 
who come within their clutches. 

“ This class has been celebrated from the ancients 
down, in poetry and in prose. It has been made too 
24 


388 


nana’s daughter. 


prominent in all ways. To the glorification of this class 
the greatest talent of our century has been consecrated. 

“ To all our poets, to all our novelists, to all our 
litterateurs^ let us say: 

“Gentlemen, your style is admirable but your 
teachings are abominable I You render these crea- 
tures interesting, you invest them with your own 
brilliancy — in fact, you, gentlemen, are simply intel- 
lectual d’Albignys I ” 

The Prosecutor was silent a moment, after having 
uttered this apostrophe in a voice of thunder. 

He then proceeded to examine, one after the other, 
the proofs which had been offered of d’Albigny’s guilt, 
his avowal to Nana, and the antecedents of the accused. 

He concluded as follows : 

“ The guilt of this man is as clear as the sun in my 
eyes, and I demand that he be punished as he deserves. 
Remember, gentlemen, that there is no half way in 
this matter. Either the man is guilty, or he is inno- 
cent ! 

“ If he be innocent, acquit him ; if he be guilty, no 
extenuation can be offered for him. It is high time 
that an example should be made, and that such people 
should realize that society is armed against them, and 
that Justice is implacable.” 

After the Prosecutor had finished his argument, 
d’Albigny was permitted to rise. While the Prose- 
cutor had been speaking, the accused had realized what 
the verdict of the Jury must be in the face of all these 
proofs. His guilt was established by the triple testi- 
mony of Madame Despretz, of Luke, and of Nana, 
who had now turned against her associate. 

The letters produced by Adele were the last and most 
overwhelming proof. 

Wiuit should he say ? he asked himself. Should he 
attempt to appeal to the Jury by acting the farce of 
avowing his guilt and his repentance in a sudden out- 
burst? It was possible that this might win for him the 
benefit of “ extenuating circumstances.” 

He asked the President for permission to say a few 


nana\s daughter. 


389 


words, before his own counsel began the argument in 
his defence. 

“ Speak, then ! ” said the President. 

Then d’Albigny, laying his hand on his heart, raised 
his eyes to Heaven, and in a voice broken with feigned 
emotion said, slowly: 

“ I owe the world the entire truth. I wish to pay 
this debt of honor. 

“ I am guilty of the crime of which I am accused. 

“ Condemn me, therefore. 

“ But I ask that I may be granted the benefit of 
extenuating circumstances. 

“ It is twenty-five years since the crime was commit- 
ted on account of which I stand before you to-day. I 
am now forty-seven years of age. I was then hardly 
twenty-two. I had seen very little of life, as I had 
been brought up under circumstances of peculiar 
austerity. I was suddenly thrown on the world with 
a large fortune at my disposal, and became involved in 
a whirl of excitement, living in a circle that was at 
once frivolous and despicable. 

“ I met Addle Despretz, and fell madly in love with 
her. I offered to marry her. Although she rejected 
my offers, she drew me on to renew them, accepted 
all my attentions, and willingly entered the carriage on 
that unfortunate night. Addle drove me mad by her 
coquetry, and was herself to blame. 

Gentlemen of the Jury — condemn me, if you will, 
the example will be a salutary one, but remember that 
many among you are not without fault. I was young 
and an orphan, without the salutary surroundings of 
home, and without the tender influence of a mother, 
who would have taught me what was right. I lost 
my beloved mother early — ” 

D’Albigny stopped ; his voice broke, and he sank on 
his bench as if crushed by his repentance. 

The audience was touched and sympathetic. Some 
of the women wept, but several young men who were 
with them were indignant, and murmured; 

“ It is disgraceful ! Who would have believed that 
d’Albigny could have been guilty of such an act I 


390 


nana’s daughter. 


The counsel of the accused now rose to speak. His 
argument was a feeble one, as he had based his pro- 
posed defence on the positive assurance from d’Albigny 
that he was innocent. And now he found all his argu- 
ments knocked from under him by the public confession 
which the Marquis had just made. 

The lawyer, therefore, could only plead extenuating 
circumstances. 

The President summed up the case and presented it 
to the Jury, who retired for deliberation. 

Then, a great buzz of conversation arose in the court 
room. Bets were made on the length of the penalty 
to be inflicted, and eye-glasses were riveted on the 
unmoved countenance of the Public Prosecutor. The 
women analyzed Andree’s toilette and her husband’s 
appearance. The men all admired Andrde and envied 
Lucien, who sat near her, somewhat too stiff and erect 
in his tightly-buttoned coat. 

They were talking together, the young husband and 
wife, in very low tones. The dull light in the court 
room softened the brilliancy of her complexion, and 
imparted to it a delicious softness. Her hair, in grape- 
like tendrils, fell over her white brow, and her beauti- 
ful eyes were deeper and richer in color, since her 
happiness was assured. 

The Jury entered. 

The President rose to read their verdict. 

The accused, found guilt}^ with premeditation, and 
without extenuating circumstances, was sentenced to 
five years at the galley^. 

This announcement was followed by tremendous 
excitement in the crowd. 

A woman called out; 

‘‘Kill yourself. Marquis! You ought to kill your- 
self!” 

D’Albigny looked at her, and answered in a loud 
voice ; 

“ You ought to be sent to the galleys yourself, and 
remain there long after I have left ! ” 

The guards seized d’Albigny by the arm and drew 
him away. 


NASA’s DAUGHTER. 


391 


He turned on the threshold to look back on the 
world he was leaving, and, waving one of his hand- 
somely modelled hands toward the little group of well- 
known members of his circle of acquaintances, he 
murmured, with a bitter smile : 

“ Farewell, my dears ! 

Next, Margot’s case was called. The florist simply 
admitted her. act, and did not attempt to deny that she 
had long premeditated it. 

Andr^e was summoned as her witness and gave the 
warmest testimony in favor of her work-woman, saying 
that it was Margot’s love and devotion for herself 
which led her to commit the act which had resulted 
in Nana’s destruction. 

Luke’s deposition was in favor of the accused. 

“ This woman,” he said, “ was in the employment of 
Monsieur Paillardin, a man who respected no one. He 
died a tragic death, and Margot found herself with- 
out work, and fell into the power of a former valet of 
Paillardin’s, a second-class d’Albigny, in fact. 

“ One day, the poor creature was permitted by a kind 
Providence to fall in the way of Mademoiselle Andr^e 
Naviel, who at once took her out of the clutches of the 
valet^ and from that moment Margot changed, and 
earned her daily bread by her work. 

“The girl attached herself like a faithful dog to 
Andr^e, who had been so good to her. She saw that 
Nana was seeking to blight the happiness of her bene- 
factress. She listened to the dictates of her unreasoning 
heart, which said: ‘Defend your mistress; defend her 
who saved you ; defend her with your teeth and your 
nails — in any and every way, defend her!’ She did 
go — and with vitriol — and I assure you, sir, she thought 
she was doing right.” j , • 

The Jury then heard the opinion of a learned pnysi- 
cian, who said he had examined the accused, and, 
finding every symptom of hj^steria, felt that her respon- 
sibility for the act she had committed was very slight. 

Nana, with her head wrapped in a black veil, gave 
her final testimony. 


392 


nana’s daughter. 


“I do not know this woman,” she said. “She has 
no reason for personally disliking me. Her employers 
alone could have influenced her to do what she did.” 

After a long deliberation and much difference of 
opinion among the Jury, Margot was acquitted. 

The order to release her was given by the Court, and 
Margot at once rushed to Andr^e and threw herself 
at her feet, kissing the hem of her robe and laughing 
with joy and excitement. 

Luke went up to her. 

“Look out!” he said. “You have again been very 
near the doors of Saint-Lazare. Try never to get so 
near again, or they may open and swallow you up. 
Follow Madame Naviel’s advice. It is she who has 
brought up my daughter, and far better, let me tell 
you, than I could have done it myself.” 

Margot looked up at him with round-eyed wonder. 

“ I am not afraid of you now. Monsieur Luke, and I 
will always try to please you,” she replied, meekly. 

During this brief colloqu}^ the' crowd had gathered 
in the doorways and watched Nana, as, erect and 
stately, draped in her black veil and guided by a 
policeman of whom she had asked the favor, she went 
out to her carriage. 

The Court withdrew. Soon not a soul was left in 
the room. 

Above the President’s chair, the ivory Christ extended 
His arms in the obscurity of the half-darkened apart- 
ment. 


nana’s daughter. 


393 


CHAPTER LXV. 

AN IDYL. 

O N the evening of this long and terrible day, Andr^e 
and her husband took the train for Brittany. 
Madame Despretz left la Rue Croisatiere^ to take 
possession of an entresol in one of the houses that the 
young couple had just purchased in Paris. 

Luke had entered Madame Naviel’s flower establish- 
ment as general manager, and Margot resumed her 
work there. 

Andrde and Lucien reached Saint-Malo at eight 
o’clock in the morning, where they took an omnibus 
which transported them and their luggage to the wharf, 
where they found the tiny steamboat in which they 
were to reach the Promontory of Saint-Egmont, at the 
foot of which was the villa they had taken. The villa 
was built on a granite ledge which stretched to the 
mouth of the Ranee. In front was a terrace planted 
with aspens, and wild vines ran over the sides of the 
house and up the pillars on the front, throwing 
their graceful tendrils in every direction. 

From their room on the first floor, the twain looked 
out on a sea of verdure tossing in the salt sea breeze. 
They were waked in the morning by the lusty shouts 
and songs of the sailors, who liad moored their boats 
within sight. 

They had hired a young girl near by to wait on 
them — they did not require a large retinue. ^ They 
were happy and charmed with their isolation in 
this fair land of Brittany, which was marred by no 
echo from Paris. 

They saw no one, and wished to see no one, for they 
saw each other. They did not even require speech, for 
they understood each look and gesture. The^'' felt only 
the bliss of being in each other’s society, and the more 


394 nana’s daughter. 

they did so the more they realized the immensity of 
their joy. 

When they heard the whistle of the steamboat from 
Saint-Malo, tliey rang for their servant. She appeared 
with two common white bowls filled with excellent 
coffee, some thick cream, and a couple of slices of 
buttered toast. 

Sometimes Lucien would say to the Br^tonne : 

“ Bring some more toast.” 

And she would answer : 

“ Bless me ! I thought Parisians never ate ! but 
my opinion now is that you have as good appetites as 
anybody.” 

After their coffee, they went out in a boat until their 
breakfast hour. They had hired this boat and two men 
for a month. The owner, who was called Captain 
Camisard, was a rough fellow, who made enough from 
strangers in the summer to take him through the 
winter. 

Andr^e wore a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield her 
fair face from the hot sun. They went down a flight 
of steps cut in the rock from their terrace ; but when 
the tide was low, they were obliged to go some distance 
out on the sand. When they were fairly seated, the 
captain hoisted his sails, the wind soon filled them, and 
our young friends looked back on their villa, fast fading 
away in the distance. They saw the Brdtonne maid- 
servant with her tall cap, leaning over the balustrade, 
her white jacket making her visible among the green 
vines, when a darker costume would have been lost. 

Two days after their return to Dinaud, Captain 
Camisard proposed to Andree that he should take her 
next day to C^zambre with her husband. 

“ What is to be seen there? ” asked Andree. 

“Nothing but a rock. The peak known as the 
Devil’s Tooth is there, and inaccessible to everything 
and everybody, except sailors and sea fowl. On 
the summit of this rock was buried a foreign prince, 
who had taken the singular idea into his head that he 
would be buried there.” 


kana’s daughter. 395 

♦ 

“ What was his name ? ” asked Madame Despretz, 
hastily. 

“ Upon my word, I don’t know. I was told only that 
he came from the East Indies, and that he had died of 
grief.” 

“Very well ; have the boat ready at nine o’clock, and 
we will go,” said Andr^e. 

That evening, they entered the Casino at Dinaud for 
the first time. There was a ball that night, and they 
danced together, enjoying the delightfully selfish 
pleasure of devoting themselves to each other, and 
paying no attention to the strangers about them. 

Andr^e was very lovely in a pale blue silk, made 
very simply. She wore the diamond ear-rings given her 
by Lucien, and an aigrette among her blond puffs, 
which shook as she moved, scattering a thousand 
sparks. 

Sh'e excited universal admiration, and several young 
men ventured to ask her to dance. She thanked 
them with a smiling refusal, and when they continued, 
taking her for a young lady, she answered, gayly : 

“ I have promised all the round dances to this gen- 
tleman.” 

One of the young men, more audacious than the 
others, said, maliciously : 

“ Take care. Mademoiselle, that such exclusive 
attention from one man does not excite observation.” 

“ And what of that,” she answered with some sharp- 
ness, “ since this gentleman is my husband ! ” 

The young fellow, somewhat crestfallen, bowed and 
retreated, and Andree waltzed off with Lucien. 

She waltzed charmingly, and was quite intoxicated 
with the scene. When, however, as soon came to pass, 
she had had enough of it, she took her husband’s arm 
and they went home on fo#t through the long terraced 
walk just above the sea. 

They walked very slowly, listening to the murmur 
of the waves, the measured rush and ripple of the 
water, and the splash as the waves broke on the shore. 
They stood still for a moment and listened. 


396 


nana’s daughter. 


“Do you love me as much as you did before our 
marriage?” asked Lucieu. 

“ A thousand times more,” was the reply. 

“ And I, Andree, I ask myself sometimes if I am 
dreaming, or if I am awake, and if it be possible that 
we are to spend our lives together? ” 

“ And Andr^e’s love never wearies you ? — never 
becomes monotonous to you? ” 

“ Hush! that is sheer blasphemy.” 

“No, let me speak. I held your arm tightly to-night, 
for I was afraid you would -escape and ask some of the 
women I saw to dance with you. I saw some who 
were very pretty, and I was afraid you would think me 
ugly.” 

“ And where were the pretty women, of whom you 
speak ? I did not notice them — I saw only you.” 

They talked on in that way until they reached the 
villa. When they entered, they found a letter on the 
table. It was post-marked Paris, and signed by Luke. 
Lucien read it aloud : 

“Dear Friends: — I hasten to inform you that we 
are all well, and nearly settled. There is a great 
demand for flowers, and I flatter myself that I am a 
very good Manager for the house. Madame Naviel is 
pleased and so is. her most excellent husband. He eats 
and sleeps ; but, bless me ! what a fist he has ! He 
could pitch all the lodgers in the two houses, of which 
you have given him the charge, out of the window, one 
after the other, if they don’t pay their rent when it is 
due. At the same time, he is so good natured that I 
think he would rather pay the money himself than 
have any trouble. 

“ I am sorry to say that Madame Despretz is not 
well. She has suffered tc^b much, poor woman. We 
are to be married in a month. 1 know very well that 
I am assuming the position and duties of nurse; but I 
love Adele so much. I am so grateful to her for 
having forgiven me, that I shall be glad to do all for 
her that lies in my power. 


nana’s daughter. 


397 


“ Alas ! why cannot we be young again, she and I ? 
You will come home for the marriage, of course. It is 
to announce this to you, and at the same time, to urge 
your return that I scrawl these few lines. And now, 
children, good-bye. Think kindly of 

“Old Luke.” 

Lucien laid the letter on the table. Andr^e had 
thrown herself on the sofa, and was almost asleep. Her 
attitude was perfection : her right arm was folded 
under her head, and her left hung down at her side. 

Through the window, just at her head, he saw the 
yellow light of the Saint-Malo light-house. From afar 
off came the hoarse murmur of the sea, tossing in the 
moonlight. Then, Lucien stooped over his wife and 
looked steadily at her sweet face. He stooped and 
kissed her on her parted lips, and she faintly smiled. 


398 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER LXVL 

THE rajah’s grave. 

T he next morning, at nine o’clock, Andrde and 
Lucien embarked with Camisard and his sailor. A 
fresh wind blew from the north-west. The sea was 
lovely, and the waves brilliant and clear as emeralds. 

Fleecy white clouds flew over the blue sky with 
inconceivable rapidity. 

As the boat approached Saint-Malo, they saw the 
windows of the old city blazing in the sunshine, the 
yellow glass windows looking like topazes set in the 
deep blue granite of the facades. 

When they were very near the town, the Captain 
suddenly changed his course and went out to sea, 
where the waves were heavier, through which, how- 
ever, the staunch little boat steadily made its way. 

About eleven o’clock, the young people disembarked 
at the Isle Harbor. They had bought with them a 
day’s provisions, and a tent which they speedily erected 
out of reach of the waves. ' 

Andree gave the sailors a couple of bottles of Bor- 
deaux and a leg of cold roast mutton. 

The breakfast was ga^ enough. They made coffee 
over a fife which one of the sailors built in a sheltered 
corner. 

After they had drunk their coffee, Andree said to 
the Captain: 

“Where is the Devil’s Tooth?” 

“Way up the Island, on the other side, it is said 
that the water at its base is a hundred fathoms 
deep. If you want to visit the tomb, the Custom 
House people will show it to you. Their house is on 
the path you see over there, only I advise you not to go 
on the Devil’s Tooth with the wind blowing like this.” 

Lucien led Andrde away and up the shore where 
their feet sank in the shifting sauds. 


nana's daughter. 


399 


The path, which led to the house occupied by the 
Custom House officials, was bordered by beds in which 
a few puny carrots were trying to grow, with some 
potatoes and cabbages, the leaves of which were so 
<levoured by snails that they looked like spiders’ Avebs. 
Everywhere else the ground was covered with short, 
dry grass, cut close by the rabbits. 

The house of which our young people were in search 
was some three hundred yards further on, in the hol- 
low of the Island, where there was shelter from the 
north-east. 

Andree and Lucien saw a Coast Guard sitting in the 
doorway smoking his pipe. He rose as they approached. 

“ Will you tell me the name of the foreign Prince 
who died in this retreat a month ago ? ” asked Andr4e, 
in a voice trembling with emotion. 

“ He never told his name, Madame. We only know 
that in his own land he was called Prince. If you 
would like to see the room in which he died, we will 
show it to you.” 

Madame Despretz looked at her husband as if to 
consult him. 

“ By all means,” said Lucien quickly, seeing what 
she wished. 

The Coast Guard guided them up a narrow staircase, 
which ended in a narrow corridor. 

He opened a very contracted door. The room into 
which he admitted them was very small, and lighted 
by two small windows, over which hung white curtains. 
One of these windows looked directly out upon the 
water. 

The bed was of cherry wood, and two straw chairs 
stood on either side of it. A manuscript was lying 
open on the bureau. Madame Despretz glanced down 
upon it, and read the words : 

“TO ANDREE.” 

She recognized the writing of him who had died 
because he loved her too well. 


400 


nana's daughter. 


“ Will you sell me this manuscript ? ” she said to the 
man. 

“With pleasure, Madame. When the young man 
was buried, I thought we ought to bury all this writing 
with him, but my comrades said no. They preferred 
to show it to people, hoping in that way to make some 
money. If you wish to buy it, I will sell it for what- 
ever you think it is worth.” 

Andrde handed five louis to the man, and reverently 
turned over the leaves. 

They were not very numerous. 

“ He wrote until the very day he died,” resumed the 
Coast Guard. “He was as gentle as a girl, and, in 
order to remunerate us for our services, he gave us a 
thousand francs each. It was all the money he had 
when he died.” 

“ And where is he buried ? ” 

“ On the Devil’s Tooth. It is not very easy to get 
there, particularly when the wind blows as it does 
to-day. You must keep on the road that passes our 
door ; when you come to a reservoir you must turn to 
your right.” 

Monsieur and Madame Despretz left the mortuary 
chamber and followed the road as far as the cistern. 
There they saw before them a plain, where the grass 
was dry and slippery. 

This plain gradually sloped upward to the centre of 
the Island, where rose a granite peak some thirty feet 
in the air. On the top of this peak was a platform of 
about a hundred square feet. In the centre of this 
was a large, black head-stone, the primitive monument 
raised to the stranger by these people among whom he 
died. 

The breakers roared and dashed three hundred feet 
below, rising like a wall fringed with white foam, and 
rolling in one after the other with a noise like thunder. 

To attain the summit of this rock, it was necessary 
to climb an almost perpendicular wall. Lucien was 
very nervous about it on Andr^e’s account. He was 
afraid of her being dizzy and losing her foothold. 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


401 


“Andr^e,” he said, gravely, “it is wrong to run such 
a risk.’’ 

“And yet he lies there who sacrificed himself for 
us. He gave us the liberty we now enjoy, and the 
fortune we accepted. Did I claim to be religious, I 
should say to you: ‘We owe him a prayer at his 
tomb!”’ 

The Coast Guard had dug in the side of the rock a 
succession of holes large enough to place the tips of 
their feet. Andrce detected them instantly, and began 
the perilous ascent. 

“ He who loves me, follows me I ” she said over her 
shoulder to her husband. He followed her, sustaining 
himself with one hand and her with the other. 

Below, the sea gulls were darting hither and thither 
among the spray, thrown high against the rocks. 
Occasionally, a gust of wind would snatch Andr^e’s 
skirts and wrap them around some projecting point, as 
if determined to throw her down into the abyss below. 

Valiant as are all daughters of the people, she 
waited calmly until the wind had died away, clinging 
with both hands to some inequality of the surface. 
She took advantage of a few moments’ lull to throw 
herself forward on the level platform, when Lucien 
instantly followed her. 

The Coast Guard had painted in red letters on the 
headstone the date of the death of the Indian Prince. 

The young couple knelt on the fine turf that had 
grown around the grave, which had been hewn out in 
the granite to receive the Rajah’s body. They could see 
the immense stretch of sea toward the north. Cape 
Frepel on the west and Varde on the east formed the 
bay. Toward the south they perceived a stretch of 
sea beach. 

Andr^ie had gathered two or three dark pansies from 
the garden of the villa, as she left it in the morning. 
The dowers had faded in her belt. She took them now 
and tied them together with one of her own long 
golden hairs, and laid the withered dowers on the 
tombstone. She took from her pocket the Rajah’s 


402 


nana's daughter. 


manuscript, and began to read it aloud. The cry of 
the sea gulls was the accompaniment she had. 

“Cezambre, June 5th. 

“Yes, I am still living, at which I wonder, for 
Andr^e is forever lost to me. Life is valueless to me 
now. I came here to die, Andrde, and to think of you. 
The sea soothes me ; I must be surrounded by the 
Infinite. 

“ You do not know what has become of me. You 
think I have returned to my own land. You are very 
nearly right, for Death is the home of those who suffer 
here.” ' 

Andr^e was suddenly interrupted. 

A fierce gust caught away the manuscript. She saw 
it borne to an incredible height, the white pages flutter 
ing like the wings of some great bird. 

At the same moment, Lucien perceived a black line 
on the horizon, between the sky and the sea. Two of 
the Coast Guard came running to them, shouting : 

“Come down! come down I unless you wish to be 
blown into the sea ! ” 

The descent was much more perilous than going up 
had been, for it was necessary to look down to see 
where to place each foot, and looking down on this 
foam and confusion was a very hazardous matter, 

Lucien could find no place to put his foot after 
having gone down a few rods. His hands slipped on 
the dry grass. Andr^e saw the danger he was in, and, 
with the nervous energy which characterized her, she 
grasped his arm and drew him to her side just as the 
hurricane burst, which had been foretold by these 
people. 

One of the sailors, at the peril of his life, succeeded 
in reaching the young couple and in putting around 
them an enormous rope which he had fastened to the 
Rayah’s headstone. 

The black line on the horizon enlarged. The sea 
changed its hue and became leaden in color. The 


nana’s daughter. 


403 


wind whistled and howled in the most frightful manner. 
Grass and turf, torn up by the roots, flew past in 
clouds. 

The sailor, after securing the rope, let the other end 
drop to the level plain below, and said to Monsieur 
Despretz ; 

“Wait quietly until I am down, and when the next 
calm ' comes after that descend as best you can. This 
tempest won’t last long. In October or December it 
might last two days.” 

He succeeded in dropping safely on the plain. 

Andrde and Lucien were obliged to lie down flat 
upon the surface under which the Rajah reposed. His 
tomb now protected them, and attached as they were 
to the granite headstone, they contemplated without 
fear the imposing scene outspread below them. 

At this moment, they heard cannon fired in quick 
succession. 

25 


5 


404 


nana’s daughter. 


CHAPTER LXVII. 

THE CONVICT SHIP. 

A MAN-OF-WAR lay about two leagues off. ^ The 
sailors attached to the Coast Guard stood still. 

“It is the Actif^'^ said one; “it was to leave Cher- 
bourg yesterday for Cayenne Avith a number of con- 
victs.” 

“How do you know that? ” asked the other. 

“ From my cousin, who is on board, and wlio Avrote 
to me about it a Aveek ago. I was on the Actif for two 
years myself, and I recognize it.” 

“Well, I don’t believe it is the Actif. Don’t you 
see how low it is in the Avater ? ” 

“Yes. It is an old ship, you know, and I wonder 
why it Avas not condemned long since.” ■ 

“ Look at the croAvd on the bridge ! There is evi- 
dently no discipline on board, and it looks to me as if 
the vessel were keeling over.” 

“Well, we must see what we can do, brother, to 
help these Christians in their hour of peril.” 

“ All right I ” answered the other, as they ran rapidly 
down the path. 

At this moment the tempest was at its height. The 
masts of the vessel broke like pipe-stems in the blast, 
the boAVsprit was twisted off, and the ship drifted 
rapidly toward C^zambre. As it approached the shore 
the crew tried to throw out the anchor, but the chain 
broke, and the ship continued to drift toward the 
western shore. 

Suddenly it touched a rock, and gave a bound and a 
lurch, and the sea SAvept over it. The men held on to 
the ropes, and a pitiable clamor arose, but the roar of 
the tempest soon stifled this sound of lamentation. By 
degrees the transport, raised by the Avaves and dashed 
upon the rocks again and again, parted in the middle — 
first one half sank and then the otlier. 


nana’s daughter. 


405 


Andr^e and Lucien saw several men trying to swim 
among the waves, but the sea soon swallowed them up. 

The Actif was lost. 

The wind by this time seemed to have exhausted its 
fury. A light streak was seen on the horizon, and the 
clouds swept slowly toward the east. 

Andr^e said to Lucien, hastily: 

“ Let us try to go down.” 

Assisted by the rope which was so strongly fastened, 
they reached the plain and the road which led them 
back to the house of the Coast Guard. 

Andr^e stopped once and looked back on the 
Mausoleum, which elevated its black crest against the 
livid sky. 

“ Farewell ! ” she murmured. 

And taking her husband’s arm, she moved on as 
quickly as possible. Presently, she met Captain Cam- 
isard, who took off his cap as he met them. 

“ Does Madame mean to start in this weather ? ” he 
asked. “Now that the tempest is over the wind is 
favorable, but the sea is very rough. I don’t, know 
how Madame feels about it, but I should rather eat my 
supper at home than at C^zambre.” 

“ As soon as you consider it safe we will go,” said 
Lucien. 

“ I don’t understand,” continued the Captain, “ how 
it happens that the boat belonging to*the Coast Guard 
has not come back. They went to carry assistance to 
the ship that has just been wrecked. It seems that it 
was carrying convicts to Cayenne.” 

Talking as they went with the Captain of the boat 
that had brought them to C^zambre, Andr^e and Lucien 
reached the shore where they had disembarked that 
morning. Here, protected as it was, the water was 
very still. 

The tempest was over, the sky was again blue and 
the sea the same delicious color that it was in the 
morning. 

Andree and Lucien soon embarked. The sailors 
pulled the boat close to a rock, from which they 


406 


nana’s daughter. 


easily entered it. The sails were spread, and soon 
the Island was like a misty shadow behind them. 
Presently the Captain exclaimed : 

“ Is not that the Coast Guard’s boat ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ; I know it well. But it has only two 
oars, although it is heavy.” 

Lucien looked off and saw the boat, which some- 
times disappeared from view, but they soon gained 
upon it, and found that there were in it five men beside 
the Coast Guard — two sailors and three convicts. 

As they saw these faces distinctly, Andree uttered 
a cry and grasped her husband’s arm. 

Among these pale faces was one she knew. 

“What is the matter, Andree?” asked Lucien, 
anxiously. 

“ Look ! Who is that in the boat we are passing ? ” 

“Who is it? I don’t know.” 

“Not know the Marquis d’Albigny?” 

“Impossible ! You are mistaken.” 

“ No ; it is he, I tell you ! ” 

Lucien, who was very near-sighted, in vain tried to 
distinguish the features of the man named by his wife. 

By this time, however^ the distance between the 
boats had greatly increased. 

It was five o’clock when they reached their villa, 
and dinner was at once served. The Br^tonne maid 
had recognized the boat at a distance, and had hastened 
her arrangements. 

After dinner. Monsieur and Madame Despretz went 
up-stairs, for Andree was excessively weary after all 
the fatigue and mental excitement of the day. She 
was also greatly depressed. They had not been up- 
stairs more than five minutes when a quick knock was 
lieard at their door, and their maid entered, looking 
frightened half out of her wits. 

“ Oh ! Monsieur ! ” she exclaimed, “ shut all your 
blinds, sir ; they have just come to tell me that a con- 
vict has made his escape, and is in the village some- 
where. It seems that he is one of those who was on 
board the ship that was lost down the bay to-day. All 
the police are out ! ” 


nana’s daughter. 


407 


At this moment the door-bell rang violently. 

“ I implore you, sir, not to open the door ! ” cried the 
woman. “ I am sure it is the convict ! ” 

“You are mad!” Lucien replied, running quickly 
down the stairs as he spoke. “ It is probably the post- 
man.” 

He opened the door. Before him was a man covered 
with rags, who at once pushed past and shut the door. 

“ You have every right to reproach me, but all the 
same you are my son, and you will hide me in your 
house,” said this man. “Andr^e is upstairs. I will 
go to her. She is good, and will listen to me.” 

And, without awaiting a reply, he rushed up the 
stairs. 

On seeing this man, the servant rushed out into the 
street, with frightened cries. 

D’Albigny threw himself at Andrde’s feet. 

“ Save me, Madame, save me I ” he implored. “ I 
will not be taken prisoner again — I prefer to die ! You 
have a boat; send me over to Jersey this very night. 
Give me some clothes, so that I may not be known ; 
hide me ; do what you will, but save me I ” 

“In the situation, sir, in which you stand,” inter- 
rupted Lucien, gravely, “there is only one way to 
save you.” 

“And what is that? Speak, my son. You ought to 
feel some regard for my honor, for my life, for my 
safety I Help me, Lucien ! You can have no idea of 
the frightful life I have led for the last two months. I 
have no right to your forgiveness, but I have to your 
pity. Save me from Cayenne. What have I done 
worse than the others ? All have been in league against 
me. I am hungry, I am cold — and yet I burn with 
fever ! ” 

“ I repeat to you, sir, that there is only one means of 
safety for you, and this is it ! ” 

He extended a loaded revolver to his father. 

The Marquis laughed aloud as he seized the weapon. 

“Excellent son! Your solution is a simple one, 
after all. No, I will not kill myself; but if you do 


408 nana’s daughter. 

not give me clothes and means to get away, I will kill 
you ! ” 

He turned the revolver upon Lucien. 

Andr^e threw herself before her husband, and fixed 
her fiashing eyes on the bandit. 

“ Coward ! ” she cried. “ Murder us both, if you 
will, since you are too base to do the only thing left 
for you to do. If Lucien yields to your threats, I shall 
cease to love him ! ” 

Lucien pushed her gently aside. 

“ Fire, if you choose ! One crime more will entitle 
you to the guillotine. Fire, I tell you ! You have 
closed my heart to pity. I might possibly have listened 
to you, but now it is useless for you to say another 
word ! ” 

“ Ah ! you desert me, then, like everybody else I 
Very well ; you shall pay for this ! ” 

There was a report. The ball grazed Lucien’s cheek 
and broke one of the windows. Then, the young man 
rushed on his father to disarm him. At the same 
moment, Madame Despretz seized his wrist with both 
her hands. 

But d’Albigny shook himself free. 

“ Let me go ! ” he cried, “ or I shall kill your wife ! ’’ 

He fired. 

The ball went out through the open door of the 
chamber, and was flattened against the wall of the 
staircase. 

This report was followed by one still louder. 

D’Albigny uttered a terrible cry and fell back 

A gendarme appeared with his gun in his hand, 
followed by another. 

The}^ raised the escaped criminal from the floor. 
Between his 03^68 there was a round hole, where the 
ball had hit him. 

The mouth was convulsed, and the eyes open and 
fixed. 

“ The fellow is dead ! ” muttered one of the men. 


nana’s daughter. 


409 


CHAPTER LXVIII. 

EPILOGUE. 

N ana soM to Saint-Amand all that remained to 
her — her last dresses, her linen and her pawn 
tickets, receiving for the whole several thousand francs, 
and established herself in a Hotel Garnie in la Em 
Lafayette, 

She had a dressing-room and a bed-room at eighty 
francs per month, and ordered every day an excellent 
dinner, for which she paid five louis, monthly. 

She did not rise until four o’clock, and did not break- 
fast. She took no pains to invest her small capital, 
but kept in her room all the money she had. She 
rarely went out. 

Life, robust and obstinate, still maintained its sway 
in this woman. Her muscles strengthened for resist- 
ance ; all her superb strength was concentrated to 
defy that decrepitude which had not yet encroached 
upon the beauty of her figure. 

The wounds on her face had healed, but her incom- 
parable' loveliness had given place to the most repuL 
sive ugliness. Her physical sufferings had diminished, 
although at times there was such intense agony in her 
face, that she could not sleep. 

Her finger was still helpless ; she wore her hair short 
and frizzed. When she went out at twilight to get a 
breath of fresh air in the Parc Monceaux^ she covered 
her face with a black velvet mask. The people in the 
vicinity all knew now who she was, but she went by 
the name of the masked lady. 

She had a startlingly lugubrious air, gliding by like 
a phantom, wearing a black robe which, from habit, 
she lifted with her old haughty grace. She invariably 
appeared with a lace mantilla over her head, which 
nearly covered her mask. 


410 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


She was always accompanied by a gargon from the 
house in which she resided. He placed her in a chair, 
and returned for her at the hour she designated. 

The first day she went to the Park, all the children 
fled from her in terror, but they soon became accus- 
tomed to seeing her. They heard their elders talk of 
her, and they began to pity her. Their parents, who 
gossiped about her, shared this pity, for, deserved as 
were her misfortunes, it was impossible to see this 
human ruin without a feeling of compassion. 

The good bourgeoises, who assembled here to talk of 
their little household afi'airs or complain of their hus- 
bands, interrupted their gossip to whisper to each other : 

“ Look at that woman in black — it is Nana ! ” 

Nana ! That name awakened in their imaginations 
visions of the wildest extravagance and luxury. Nana 
in their eyes was fallen royalty, a dethroned Queen, 
dethroned by the uprising of good people. Nana’s 
catastrophe, was the downfall of recklessness and prodi- 
gality, the bankruptcy of wrong. And these women, 
who were charitable and kind, felt a sad commiseration 
at the depth of this misfortune, which, in less than a 
year, had made of this sovereign of a certain class — of 
this power in the land — an infirm, blind, old woman, 
repulsive in appearance, and dependent on the assist- 
ance of a gargon of her Hotel before she could breathe 
this dusty air, amid the turbulent gayety of a public 
square. 

One day, Nana was awakened at six o’clock by the 
sound of cannon. 

Just outside her door, in the corridor, the gargon 
was blacking the boots belonging to the various rooms. 

Nana rose, and opened her door. 

“What is going on? ’’she asked. “ Why are they 
firing those cannon ? ” 

“To-day is La Sainte RSpublique — the fete of the 
14th of July.” 

“ Vive r Lmpereur ! ” shouted three or four women, 
who. were in their rooms with their doors partially open. 

“ Hush ! you will have the police in here ! ” said the 
gargon. 


kana’s daughter. 411 

At the word police, the women were as silent as the 
grave. 

Nana went back to bed and to sleep again. She 
had a frightful dream. She saw d’Albigny in his 
convict’s dress, a green cap on his head and a ball 
fastened to his leg. He reproached her for having 
betrayed him, and for being the cause of his condemna- 
tion. He then violently seized her and bound her to 
her bed — her old one, over which the silver eagle had 
mounted guard — and around this bed he piled her 
dresses, laces, shawls and furs, and, when they rose 
nearly to the ceiling, he set fire to them and went 
away, leaving-Nana helpless and alone. 

She heard in her dream his receding step, its ine- 
quality and the heavy ball dragging over the floor. 

Then she felt the heat of the flames mounting 
around her. She saw the great eagle gradually melt; 
its head drooped toward her^ and its silver tears 
dropped on her burning eyelids. 

The noise of a quarrel in the next room freed 
her from this nightmare. From tho street came the 
tumult of a gathering crowd. 

Flags decorated all the houses, floating from the 
windows of the rez-de-chaussSe up to the very roof, a 
blaze of radiant color. 

Platforms were raised for open air concerts, around 
which good-natured crowds had gathered in their Sun- 
day clothes, who cheerfully moved aside to let women 
and children pass. Young girls wore tricolored rib- 
bons in their hair, and the men had commemorative 
medals hung to their breasts by tricolored -favors. 

Toward evening, the popular enthusiasm became 
immense. The houses were illuminated, and on all the 
highest points fireworks were set off. Patriotic songs 
were heard ; the Marseillaise and the Chant du Depart 
rose in chorus from the crowd, and were re-echoed from 
the domes, from the church steeples, from the Louvre^ 
and .the square towers of Notre-Dame^ and from the 
round ones of Saint Sulpice, 

There was no disorder in the crowd, which seemed 
made up of happy people, who showed the greatest 


412 


nana's daughter. 


respect to women and children and a determination to 
make this celebration all that it ought to be. 

The women kept as closely as possible to their hus- 
bands, and held by the hand such of their children as 
could walk, while the fathers bore, perched on their 
shoulders, the youngest born, who applauded with their 
tiny hands when groups of young men passed waving 
flags and singing the Marseillaise, 

The Marsellaise came from all quarters, sweeping 
down like a flight of liberated song birds. It burst out 
on the Place de la Bastille^ and, following the Boule- 
vards like a train of powder, was lighted again on the 
Place de la Concorde,^ ascending the Champ s-BlysSes to 
the Arc de Triomphe. 

The crowd shouted 

“ Allons, enfants de la patrie, 

Le jour de gloire est arrivA” 

And the great hymn arose with a formidable crescendo 
to the skies above. 

It was no longer War that the people sang, it was 
Liberty, Brotherhood, and the affirmation of their faith 
in human justice, of their belief in the dignity of labor 
and of their love of Peace, not of Peace at any price — 
but of a proud and dignified Peace — defended if needs 
be unto death by these millions of men. 

Nana wished to go to the Park and rang for the 
gargon to take her there. But, this evening, all the 
servants had gone out. 

‘ Then she determined to go alone. She stumbled 
along, sad and lonely amid this universal joy. 

She understood none of the sweet impulses which 
moved the people, and when she was lightly jostled by 
a band of young mechanics who were singing as they 
walked rapidly along, she turned her masked face 
toward them with the exclamation ; 

“ Beasts ! ” 

They halted, stung by the insult, but were more dis- 
posed to laughter than to anger, and, taking each other 
by the hands, they formed a* circle and danced around 
her until they were tired. Then they asked her to take 


nana’s daughter. 


413 


off her mask, declaring that they would have a kiss to 
take away the taste of the epithet she had addressed to 
them. She resisted and defended herself with the 
ferocity of a wild beast. 

“Take off her mask!” sneered one voice ; “it may 
be the Empress, for all you know.” 

“ No masks here ! ” they cried. “ Every face must be 
uncovered ! Why does she hide herself, and then insult 
the people ? ” 

A tall lad of about fifteen snatched at the mask and 
tore it off. The hideous face of Nana appeared under 
the gas-light like the face of a leper at a fSte of the 
Middle Ages. 

“ You are cowards to insult a blind woman in this 
way ! ” she cried, in her rage at being unmasked thus 
publicly and displayed in her revolting ugliness. “ Yes, 
you are cowards!” she repeated, “and the proof is 
that not one of you will dare to kiss me now ! ” 

A great silence fell on the crowd. The young men, 
ashamed and distressed at having caused this humilia- 
tion to a woman, crowded around Nana and implored 
her pardon. One of them offered to tie on her mask, 
but no one accepted the challenge she had offered. 

“ You know who I am now, I see, and are ready 
enough to ask my pardon,” she said. 

“ Whosoever You may be, Madame, you need not 
be afraid of any further annoyance from us. We will 
take you home, if you wish us to do so.” 

“Many thanks — no — I have had quite enough of 
you. I only ask now that you shall keep away from 
me. I was born in the mire, and grew up I know not 
how. I had a palace a year ago, while you were 
starving. W^ill you kiss me? I am she whose kisses 
were once worth a million — I am Nana ! ” 

Profound stupefaction was depicted on the faces 
around her. They stood in silence while she passed 
through their midst and disappeared. 

“ Poor soul ! ” murmured an old man, who had 
stopped to witness this scene. 

Nana reached the corner of la Rue Lafayette and the 


414 


nana’s daughter. 


Boulevard Haussmann^ where a fHe champStre was 
going on under the trees. There were stalls and booths, 
and at one end an orchestra was playing waltzes to 
which young men in uniform were dancing with the 
pretty daughters of the people. 

Nana followed the sidewalk, guided by her parasol, 
the end of which she kept against the wall. She began 
to think of her former fetes, of the Eastern perfumes 
which exhaled from her cassolettes^ of her golden lamps 
encrusted with precious stones, and of the mantel in 
her boudoir all of crystal, with her cipher in silver, 
surmounted by a coronet of brilliant topazes. 

She saw again her lackeys, her negroes and her 
gorilla, that poor Yorick who had been killed in her 
defence. 

She would have given all that remained to her of her 
desolate existence for one hour of that mad gayety, 
for one hour of her former luxury. 

She remembered with rage the insult she had just 
received, and how not one of those youths was inclined 
to accept the challenge she had flung to them. 

She wandered among the crowd absorbed in these 
thoughts, listening to the Marseillaise still ringing out 
clear and shrill, and in the intervals she heard the gay 
music, the polkas and popular waltzes of the day. 

At the end of the Boulevard Haussmann she turned 
into la Rue Taithout^ then, mechanically, without in 
the least knowing where she was going, she turned into 
la Rue Lafayette^ and followed it until she reached 
la Rue de Provence. 

Here she found the street deserted, scarcely a sound 
of the fete reaching it. She did not know where she 
was, and, as no one passed, it was impossible to ask 
her way. 

She walked on, therefore, still guiding herself by 
her parasol. 

She moved with unusual rapidity, spurred on by her 
natural fearlessness, her nerves still tingling with 
excitement. 

Suddenly, she hit some obstacle which seemed to her 


nana’s daughter. 415 

a board, placed horizontally about the height of her 
waist. 

The board yielded at one end, and Nana, thrown 
forward, extended her arms to save herself. 

She felt that she was falling. 

Where ? She knew not I 

The board, loosened b}^ her weight, seemed to be 
suspended over vacancy. 

And, falling with outstretched arms, Nana succeeded 
in catching it, and hung by both hands over an unknown 
depth. 

What danger was this that threatened her? She 
had no idea. 

She felt only that there was nothing under her feet, 
and that around her was utter silence. 

Occasionally, she heard faint echoes of the music 
and of voices. 

She called, again and again : “ Help ! Help ! ” 

A window opened, and she redoubled her cries. 

The window closed. Probabl}^ some one was coming 
to her assistance. 

She waited impatiently. It seemed to her that the 
window she had heard was on the second floor ; it was 
necessarj^, therefore, that her preserver should come 
down the stairs and awaken the concierge. 

She counted each moment. 

“He will want,” she said, “one minute to run down 
the stairs, another to awaken the concierge., and two 
more to get here. I will give him five minutes. In 
five minutes I shall be saved ! ” 

It never occurred to her for these five minutes to 
doubt that assistance was on its way to her. But she 
felt that she could not endure this fatigue much longer. 
She tried to swing herself toward the edge of the 
excavation, and, finally, succeeded in feeling as:ainst her 
knee that portion of the sidewalk which made one side 
of the hole over which she was suspended. She real- 
ized that here was her only safety, and, if some one 
would now extend to her a helping hand, she could 
easily be assisted to the sidewalk. 


416 


nana’s daughter. 


But where was the man whom she had heard at the 
window ? Then she called again : 

“ Help ! Help ! ” in a voice that was weak with 
fright. But no one heard her. 

She struggled once more, but she felt that her 
strength was going. If she could only get her knees 
up on the board ! 

Finally, she succeeded in placing one foot there, then 
a knee, and then the other, clutching the rough board 
with her delicate hands, which were now cramped and 
nearly helpless. 

At this moment, she' heard footsteps running on the 
opposite side of the street. 

“ Here ! ” she groaned ; “ for the love of Heaven, 
come here ! Come and help me ! ” 

The footsteps stopped. Evidently she was heard. 

“ Help ! ” she cried once more, ‘‘ Help ! ” 

She heard a voice. 

“No; you can’t deceive me,” it said. “I am not 
the person to play a practical joke upon ! ” 

And the footsteps ran rapidly on, soon dying away. 

It was impossible for Nana to remain all night in 
this situation. She felt the most agonizing pains in 
her back and hips. There was a strange rushing sound 
in her ears. Her fingers were utterly numb, and sud- 
denly relaxed their hold. She now hung -head down- 
ward. 

Her consciousness of her inability to escape from 
her position, which was at once ridiculous and horrible, 
aggravated her terror and overcame her with despair. 
She began to be afraid of the death which she felt to 
be inevitable. 

And no one came ! 

The attraction of the Boulevards had drawn every 
one from the smaller streets. 

It seemed to her that all the blood in her body was 
going into her head. She allowed herself to fall ; her 
skirts were massed under her head, and this broke the 
shock. She lay for a time almost stunned, but not 
fainting, and fully conscious of her state, but she had 
not strength to rise. 


nana’s daughter. 417 

She soon decided what the place was into which she 
nad fallen. It was a sewer in process of repair. 

At this moment, rain began to fall, and ponred 
into the opening into which Nana had slipped. She 
was cold to the very marrow of her bones, and her 
teeth chattered. 

All the recollections of her past life crowded about 
her. 

She remembered the time wheft admirers thronged 
around her, when Stog died in her liouse, when Prince 
Mulhausen was bankrupted by her, when the Rajah 
lighted her candelabras with thousand franc notes, and 
when the old King racked his poor brain to find amuse- 
ments for her. 

In those old days, when she drove up the Champs 
ElysSes^ lying back in her blue landau with its silver 
trimmings, the people all stopped to look at her, and 
the most distinguished men of the time fought forNthe 
honor of assisting her to alight from her carriage. 

In the evening, when she entered a theatre, the whole 
house rose and levelled their lorgnettes at her. Her 
smile was sunshine and her nod an honor. 

And those dainty suppers she gave, the story of 
which ran all over Europe ! Where had this dream 
fled ? Where had all this luxury vanished ? It had 
all come to an end — and such an end ! 

Once she had sneered at the people and crushed them 
with her insolence. And now, on this great fete, while 
she lay dying in this wretched hole, the sewer of a 
great city — the people were dancing! Her chastise- 
ment was the triumph of good women, their protest 
against her career. 

She heard once more joyous outcries, the MarseiU 
laise, and, above all, the strains of the waltz to which 
the feet of the dancers were keeping time. 

Suddenly, she felt against her feet a cold, thick 
liquid, which came higher and higher, lifting her from 
where she lay. 

This was death! She was to die in this horrible 
mud. She struggled to her feet, and once more called 
for aid. 


418 


NANA S DAUGHTER. 


On her left she heard a body of men approaching. 
She heard them above the sound of the rain and the 
water pouring in from the gutter near by. The water 
was now less thick but more rapid. 

Nana could struggle no longer. The torrent lifted 
her helpless form and dashed it against the stone sides 
of the sewer. 

Bitter as her life had been of late, she still clung to 
it with desperation. * She recalled the daily dinner, the 
laughter around the table, and the voice of the gargon 
who usually accompanied her to the Park. 

Then all at once her memory brought up before her 
her far away youth. She remembered Luke, whose 
pale face haunted her like a vision of death. She saw 
him in his clown’s dress, as at Saint-Cloud. Through 
the obscurity she cried out : 

“ Luke ! come and help me ! Ah ! this is terrible I 
To die like this ! ” 

By this time she was delirious, and it seemed to her 
that she was answered by Luke’s voice : 

“You have fallen, woman, where you and all like 
you should fall — into the common sewer — and be 
washed away ! ” 

“I cannot die!” she moaned. “Oh! I cannot die 
in this way ! ” 

There was a brief silence. Then her voice broke 
the stillness again : 

“ Virginie ! Virginie ! Come here, quick ! My bath 
is too cold — much too cold ! ” 

Her struggles became weaker; the current now 
growing stronger swept her on — on ! 

Her dead body swirled about, dashed against the 
walls of her prison, and, finally, lay among all the other 
refuse of this great city. 


THE END. 


T. B. PETERSON and BROTHERS’ NEW BOOKS. 


Booksellers and News Agents will please send in orders at once. 

EMILE ZOLA’S NEW REALISTIC WORKS. 

Nana! Sequel to L’Assomraoir. Bi/ Emile Zola. Nana! Price 75 cents 
in paper cover, or $1.00 in morocco cloth, black and gold. Nana! 
L’Assommoir. By Emtle Zola, The Greatest Novel ever printed. Price 
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Therese Raquin. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” “ L’Assomuioir,” 
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Clorinda; or. The Court of Napoleon III., during Ws Reign. By Emile 
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H^ldne, a Love Episode; or, Une Pnye D' Amour. By EmHe Zola, 
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The Rougon-Macquart Family ; or, Miette. {La Fortune Dee Jiouyon.) 

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The Markets of Paris; or, Le Ventre de Baris. By Emile Zola. Price 
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The Conquest of Plassans; or. La Conquete de Plassana. By Emile Zola, 
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HENRY GREVILLE’S PATHETIC NOVELS. 

Xenie’s Inheritance. A Tale of Russian Life. By Henry Gr^ville. 
Saveli's Expiation. A Powerful Novel. By Henry Gr6ville. 

Dourmtf. A Russian Story. By Henry Gr^ville, author of “Dosia.” 
Lucie Rodey. A Charming Society Novel. By Henry Gr^ville. 
B()nue-Marie. A Tale of Normandy and Paris. By Henry Gr^ville. 

A Friend; or, “L’Ami.” By Henry Gr6ville, author of “ Dosia.” 

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Dosia. A Russian Story. By Henry Grioille, author of “Markof.” 

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Philomerie’s Marriages. A Love Story. By Henry Griville. 

Pretty Little Countess Zina. By Henry GriviUe, author of “Dosia.* 
Marrying Oflf a Daughter. A Love Story. By Henry Greville. 

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Raney Cottem’s Courtship. By author of “Major Jones’s Courtship.” 
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Father Tom and the Pope; or, A Night at the Vatican. Illustr.ated. 

The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 
A Woman’s Mistake; or, Jacques de Trevannes. A Charming Love Story. 
Bessie’s Six Lovers. A Charming Love Story. By Henry Peterson. 

Two Ways to Matrimony ; or. Is it Love? or, False Pride. 

The Matchmaker. By Beatrice Reynolds. A Charming Love Story. 

The Days of Madame Pompadour. By Gabrielle De St. Andre. 
Madeleine. A Charming Love Story. Jules Sandeau’s Prize Novel. 
Carmen. By Prosper Merimee. Book the Opera was dramatized from. 
The Amours of Phillippe ; or, Phillippe’s Love Affairs, by Octave Feuillet. 
Sybil Brotherton. A Novel. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

The Red Hill Tragedy. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

The American L’Assommoir. A parody on Zola’s “ L’Assommoir.” 

Hyde Park Sketches. A very humorous and entertaining work. 

The Little Countess. By Octave Feuillet, author of “ Count De Camors.” 
Miss Margery’s Roses. A Charming Love Story. By Robert C. Meyers. 
Madame Pompadour’s Garter. A Romance of the Reign of Louis XV. 
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That Lover of Mine. By the author of “ That Girl of Mine.” 

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MAJOR JONES’S COURTSHIP AND OTHER BOOKS. 

Major Jones’s Courtship. 21 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes. 12 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Major Jones’s Travels. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Bellah. A Love Story. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Sabine’s Falsehood. A Love Story. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Vidocq ! The French Detective. Illustrated. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Camille; or. The Fate of a Coquette. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 

My Hero. A Love Story. By Mrs. Forrester. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.00. 
Linda; or, The Young Pilotof the Belle Creole. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25. 
Madame Bovary. By Gustave Flaubert. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Count de Camors. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
How She Won Him ! A Love Story. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Angele’s Fortune. By Andr6 Theuriet. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
St. Maur; or. An Earl’s Wooing. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 

The Woman in Black. The Story of a Handsome and Ambitious Woman. 
A Powerful Novel of English Society in High and Low Life. Wiih 
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The Earl of Mayfield. An Historical Novel. By Thomas P. May. The 
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The Stranglers of Paris. By Adolphe Belot. Paper, 76 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

MBS. BUBNETT’S CKABMING STOBIES. 

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Theo. A Love Story. By author of “Kathleen,” “Miss Crespigny,” etc. 

Pretty Polly Pemberton. By author of “ Kathleen,” “ Theo,” etc. 

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Miss Crespigny. A Cbariuing Love Story. By author of “ Kathleen.” 
Above are in paper cover, price 60 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each. 

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NEW AND GOOD WOBKS BY BEST ADTHOBS. 

A Heart Twice Won; or. Second Love. A Love Story. By Mrs. Eliza- 
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Under the Willows; cr. The Three Countesses. By Mrs. EHzoheth Van 
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The Last Athenian. By Victor Rydberg. Translated from the Swedish. 
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The Roman Traitor ; or. The Days of Cicero, Cato, and Cataline. A Talo 
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The Earl of Mayfield. By Thomas P. May, of Louisiana. One large 
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Myrtle Lawn. An American Romance in Real Life. By Robert E. 
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Miss Leslie’s Cook Book, a complete Manual to Domestic Cookery in all 
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Frank Forester's Sporting Scenes and Characters. By Henry William 
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Francatelli’s Modern Cook Book. With the most approved jnethuds of 
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The Wavcrley Novels. New National Edition. Five 8vo. vols., cloth, 15.00 

Charles Dickens’ Works. New National Edition. 7 volumes, cloth, 20.00 

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T. B. PETERSON .nd BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


Orders solicited from Booksellers, Librarians, Canvassers, News 
Agents, and all others in want of good and fast-selling 
books, which will be supplied at very Low Prices, 


The Deserted Wife, 1 75 

The Fortune Seeker, 1 75 


MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH’S FAMOUS WORKS. 

Complete in forty-three large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, 
price $1.75 each; or $75.25 a set, each set is pul up in a neat box. 

Ishraael ; or, In the Depths, being Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.... $1 75 

Self- Raised ; or, From the Depths. Sequel to Ishmael.” 1 75 

The Mother-in-Law, $l 75 

The Fatal Secret, 1 75 

How He Won Her, 1 75 

Fair Play, 1 75 

The Spectre Lover, 1 75 

Victor’s Triumph, 1 75 

A Beautiful Fiend, 1 75 

The Artist’s Love, 1 75 

A Noble Lord, 1 75 

Lost Heir of Linlithgow, 1 75 

Tried for her Life, 1 75 

Cruel as the Grave, 1 75 


The Bridal Eve, 1 

The Lost Heiress, 1 

The Two Sisters, 1 

Lady of the Isle, 1 

Prince of Darkness, 1 

The Three Beauties, 1 

Vivia; or the Secret of Power, 1 

Love’s Labor W'on, 1 75 

The Gipsy’s Prophecy, 1 75 

Retribution, 1 75 


75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 


The Maiden Widow, 1 75 [ The Christmas Guest, 1 75 


Haunted Homestead, 1 75 

Wife’s Victory, 1 75 

Allworth Abbey, 1 75 

India ; Pearl of Pearl River,.. 1 75 

Curse of Clifton, 1 75 

Discarded Daughter, 1 75 

The Mystery of Dark Hollow,.. 1 75 


The Family Doom, 1 75 

The Bride’s Fate, 1 75 

The Changed Brides, 1 75 

Fallen Pride, 1 75 

The Widow’s Son, 1 75 

The Bride of Llewellyn, 1 75 

The Fatal Marriage, 1 75 

The Missing Bride; or, Miriam, the Avenger, 1 75 

The Phantom Wedding; or. The Fall of the House of Flint, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
Self-Made; or. Out of the Depths. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. South worth. 
Complete in two volumes, cloth, price $1.75 each, or $3.50 a set. 

MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ’S WORKS. 

Complete in twelve large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, 
price $1.75 each; or $21.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


Ernest Lin wood, $1 75 

The Planter’s Northern Bride,.. 1 75 

Courtship and Marriage, 1 75 

Rena; or, the Snow Bird, 1 75 

Marcus Warland, 1 75 


Love after Marriage, $l 75 

Eoline; or Magnolia Vale, I 75 

The Lost Daughter, 1 75 

The Banished Son, 1 75 

Helen and Arthur, 1 75 


Linda; or, the Young Pilot of the Belle Creole, 1 75 

Robert Graham; the Sequel to “ Linda; or Pilot of Belle Creole,”... 1 75 
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
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2 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBIICATIONS. 


MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS’ WORKS. 

Complete in twenty-three large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt bade, 
price S1.T5 each ; or $40.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Soldiers’ Orphans, $1 75 

A Noble Woman, 1 75 

Silent Struggles, I 75 

The Rejected Wife, 1 75 

The Wife’s Secret, 1 75 

Mary Derwent, 1 75 

Fashion and Famine, 1 75 

The Curse of Gold, 1 75 

Mabel’s Mistake, 1 75 

The Old Homestead,.... 1 75 


Norston’s Rest, $1 75 

Bertha’s Engagement, 1 75 

Bellehood and Bondage, 1 75 

The Old Countess, 1 75 

Lord Hope’s Choice, 1 75 

The Reigning Belle, 1 75 

Palaces and Prisons, 1 75 

Married in Haste, 1 75 

Wives and Widows, 1 75 

Ruby Gray’s Strategy, 1 75 


Doubly False, 1 75 | The Heiress, 1 75 j The Gold Brick,... 1 75 

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MISS ELIZA A. DHPUY'S WORKS. 

Complete in fourteen large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt back, price 
$1.75 each ; or $24.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


A New Way to Win a Fortune $l 75 

The Discarded Wife, I 75 

The Clandestine Marriage, 1 75 

The Hidden Sin 1 75 

The Dethroned Heiress, 1 75 

'The Gipsy’s "Warning, 1 75 

All For Love, 1 75 


Why Did He Marry Her? $1 75 

Who Shall be Victor ? 1 75 

The Mysterious Guest, 1 75 

Was He Guilty? 1 75 

The Cancelled Will, 1 75 

The Planter’s Daughter, 1 75 

Michael Rudolph, 1 75 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

LIST OF THE BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED. 

Every housekeeper should possess at least one of the foUowir^ Cook Books, as they 
would save the price of it in a week's cooking. 

Miss Leslie’s Cook Book, a Complete Manual to Domestic Cookery 

in all its Branches. Paper cover, $1.00, or bound in cloth, $1 50 

The Queen of the Kitchen; or. The Southern Cook Book. Con- 
taining 1007 Old Southern Family Receipts for Cooking,. ..Cloth, 

Mrs. Hale’s Now Cook Book, Cloth, 

Petersons’ New Cook Book, Cloth, 

Widdifield’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 

Mrs. Goodfellow’s Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth, 

The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewife, Cloth, 

The Young Wife’s Cook Book, Cloth, 

Miss Leslie’s New Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, 

Mrs. Hale’s Receipts for the Million, Cloth, 

The Family Save-All. By author of “National Cook Book,” Cloth, 
Francatelli's Modern Cook Book. With the most approved methods 
of French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With Sixty- 
two Illustrations. One vol., 600 pages, bound in morocco cloth, 5 00 


75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 


JlCr Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PHBLICATIONS. 3 


MRS. C. A. WARFIELD’S WORKS. 

Complete, in nine large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt back, price 
S1.75 each ; or 815.75 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Cardinal’s Daughter, $l 75 Miriam’s Memoirs, $1 75 

Feme Fleming, 1 75 Monfort Hall, 1 75 

The Household of Bouverie,.,.. 1 75, Sea and Shore, 1 75 

A Double Wedding, 1 75'Hcster Howard’s Temptation,... 1 75 

Lady Ernestine; or. The Absent Lord of Rocheforte, 1 75 

FREDRIKA BREMER’S DOMESTIC NOVELS. 

Complete in six large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price %\.lb each; 
or $10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Father and Daughter, $1 75 I The Neighbors, $1 75 

The Four Sisters, 1 75 I The Home, 1 76 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
Life in the Old World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 50 

a. K. PHILANDER DOESTICKS’ WORKS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
each ; or $7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Doesticks’ Letters, $l 75 I The Elephant Club, $l 75 

Plii-Ri-Bus-Tah, 1 75 1 Witches of New York, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

JAMES A. MAITLAND’S WORKS. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
each ; or $12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Watchman, $l 75 I Diary of an Old Doctor, $l 75 

The Wanderer, 1 75 Sartaroe, 1 75 

The Lawyer’s Story, 1 75 ' The Three Cousins 1 75 

The Old Patroon ; or the Great Van Broek Property, 1 74 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE’S NOVELS. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
each; or $12 .25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Sealed Packet, .$1 75 | Dream Numbers, $1 75 

Garstang Grange, 1 75 I Beppo, the Conscript, 1 75 

Leonora Casaloni,... 1 75 | Gemma, 1 75 | Marietta, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

FRANK FORESTER’S SPORTING SCENES. 

Frank Forester’s Sporting Scenes and Characters. By Henry William 
Herbert. A New, Revised, and Enlarged Edition, with a Life of the 
Author, a New Introductory Chapter, Frank Forester’s Portrait and 
Autograph, with a full length picture of him in his shooting costume, 
and seventeen other illustrations, from original designs by Darley and 
Frank Forester. Two vols., morocco cloth, bevelled boards, $4.00. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


4 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WILKIE COLLINS’ BEST WORKS. 

Basil; or, The Crossed Path..$l 50 j The Dead Secret. 12mo $1 50 

Above are each in one large duodecimo volume, bound in cloth. 


The Dead Secret, 8vo 75 

Basil; or, the Crossed Path, 75 

Hide and Seek, 75 

After Dark, 75 


The Queen’s Revenge, 75 

Miss or Mrs ? 50 

Mad Monkton, 50 

Sights a-Foot, 50 


The Stolen Mask, 25 | The Yellow Mask,... 25 | Sister Rose,... 26 

The above books are each issued in paper cover, in octavo form. 


EMERSON BENNETT’S INDIAN STORIES. 

Compute in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $l.7S 
each ; or $12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Border Rover, $1 75 I Bride of the Wilderness, $1 75 

Clara Moreland, 1 75 Ellen Norbury, 1 75 

The Orphan’s Trials, I 75 • Kate Clarendon, 1 75 

Viola; or Adventures in the Far South-West, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

The Heiress of Bellefonte, 75 I The Pioneer’s Daughter, 75 


GEEEN’S WORKS ON GAMBLING. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
each ; or $7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Reformed Gambler, $1 75 


Gambling Exposed, $1 75 

The Gambler’s Life, 1 75 


Secret Band of Brothers, 1 75 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

DOW’S PATENT SERMONS. 

Compute in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.60 
each ; or $6.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 3d 

Series, cloth, $1 50 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 4th 


50 


Dow’s Patent Sermons, 1st 

Series, cloth, $1 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 2d 
Series, cloth, 1 50 


Series, cloth, 1 50 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 


GEORGE SAND’S GREATEST WORKS. 

Consuelo, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 | Jealousy, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 

Countess of Rudolstadt, 1 50 | Indiana, 12uy)., cloth, 1 50 

Above Hre each published in 12ino,, cloth, gilt side and buck. 
Fanchon, the Cricket, paper cover, 50 cents, or fine edition, in cloth, 1 50 
First and True Love. With 11 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, 1 00 

Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 I The Corsair, 50 

Simon. A Love Story, 50 1 The Last Aldim, 50 

The Countess of Rudolstadt. The Sequel to Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 


MISS BRADDON’S WORKS. 


Aurora Floyd, 75 

Aurora Floyd, cloth 1 00 


The Lawyer’s Secret,.... 
For Better, For Worse,. 


25 

75 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Prioo, 
by T. B. Potereoa & Brothers, Philadolplua, Pa. 


MAJOR JONES’S COORTSHIP 

AND MAJOR JONES’S OTHER BOOKS, JUST PUBLISHED BY 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA 

And for sale in Paper Cover, and In Morocco Cloth, Gilt. 


Major Jones’s Courtship. 

MAJOR JONES’S COURTSHIP. Detailed, with Humorous Scenes, Inci- 
dents, and Adventures. By Major Joseph Jones, author of “ Raney Cot- 
tem’s Courtship,” “Major Jones’s Travels,” “Major Jones’s Georgia 
Scenes,” etc. Revised and Enlarged. With Twenty-One Full Page Illus- 
trations on Tinted Plate Paper, by Parley and Cary. One volume, 12mo, 
Price 75 cents in paper cover ; or in morocco cloth, gilt, $1.00. 

Major Jones’s Travels. 

MAJOR JONES’S TRAVELS. Detailing his Adventures, Humorous 
Scenes, and Incidents, in each town he passed through, while on his tour 
from Georgia to Canada. By Major Joseph Jones, author of “ Major 
Jones’s Courtship.” With Eight Full Page Illustrations on Tinted Paper, 
by Darley. One volume, 12mo., uniform with “ Major Jones’s Courtship.’’ 
Price 75 cents in paper cover ; or in morocco cloth, gilt, $1 .00. 

MAJOR JONES’S COURTSHIP and MAJOR JONES’S TRAVELS. These two 
books are also issued in one volume, bound in morocco cloth, price $1.75. 

Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes. 

MAJOR JONES’S GEORGIA SCENES. Comprising his celebrated Sketches 
of Georgia Scenes, with their Incidents and Characters. By Major Joseph 
Jones, author of “Major Jones’s Courtship.” With Twelve Full Page 
Illustrations on Tinted Paper, by Darley. Uniform with “Major Jones’s 
Courtship.” Price 75 cents in paper cover ; or in morocco cloth, gilt, $1.00. 

Eancy Cottem’s Courtship. 

RANCY COTTEM’S COURTSHIP. Detailed, with Other Humorous 
Sketches and Adventures. By Major Joseph Jones, author of “Major 
Jones’s Courtship.” With Eight Full Page Illustrations on Tinted Plate 
Paper, by Cary. One volume, 12mo., uniform with “ Major Jones’s Court- 
iiip.” Price 50 cents in paper cover ; or in morocco cloth, gilt, $1.00. 


0“A6ore Books by Major Jones^ are for sale by all Booksellers and Mews 
AgentSy or copies of any one or all of theniy will be sent to any one^ to any placCy 
at once ^posUpaidy on remitting the price of the ones wantedy to the publisherSy 

T. B. PETEKSOM & BKOTHEKS, Philadelphia, Pa. 

WANTED.— Camssers to eiaie ii sello; tlie alwye wo* h 


Major Jones’s Courtship. 

WITH 21 FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 

B'ST JOSEPH JONES. 


{OF riNEVILLE, GEORGIA.) 



** By this time the galls was holt of my coat-tail, hollerin us hard ae they could.** 


Price in Paper Cover, 75 Cents; or in Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00. 

Major Jon&i's Courtship is for sale by all Booksellers ami Bews Aoenls, or copies of 
gither edition will be sent at once, post-paid, on remittinr/ price in a letter to the publishers, 

T 15. PlhTliitSON & mtOTHiiilS, 


PETEHSOITS’ DOLLAE, SEEIES. 

l*rice One JJoUar Each, in Cloth-, Elaclc and Gold, 


A WOMAN’S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. By Miss Mulock. Every Lady wants it 
TWO WAYS TO MATHIMONY ; or, Is It Love, or, False Pride? 

THE STORY OF “ ELIZABETH.” By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 
FLIRTATIONS IN I'ASHIONABLE LIFE. By Catharine Sinclair. 

THE MATCHMAKER. A Society Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. Full of freshness and truth. 
ROSE DOUGLAS, The Bonnie Scotch Lass. A Companion to “Family Pride.” 

THE EARL’S SECRET. A Charming and Sentimental Love Stnry. By Miss Pardoe. 
FAMILY SEGRET.S. A Companion to “Family Pride,” and a very foscinating work. 

THE MACDERMOTS OF BALLYGLORAN. An Exciting Novel hy Anthony Trollope. 
THE FAMILY SAVE-ALL With Economical Receipts for Breakfast, Dinner and Tea. 
SELF-SACRIFICE. A Charmiug and Exciting Work. By author of “Margaret Maitland.” 
THE PRIDE OP LIFE. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott. 

THE RIVAL BELLES; or. Life in V/ashington. By author “Wild Western Scenes.” 
THE CLYPPARDS OP CLYPPE. By James Payn, author of “ Lost Sir Massingherd.” 
THE ORPHAN’S TRIALS; or. Alone in a Great City. By Emerson Bennett. 
THE HEIRESS OF SWEETWATER. A Love Story, abounding with exciting scenes. 
THE REFUG EE. A delightful boi'k, full of food for laughter, and sterling information. 
LOST SIR MASSING BERD. A Love Story. By author of “ The Clyffards of Clyffe.” 
CORA BELMONT ; or, THE SINCERE LOVER. A True Story of the Heart. 
THE LOVER’S TRIALS ; or. The Days Before the Revolution. By Mrs. Denison. 
MY SON’S WIPE. A strong, bright, interesting and charming Novel. By author of “ Caste.” 
AUNT PATTY’S SCRAP BAG. By .Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of “ Linda,” “Rena.” 
SARATOGA! AND THE FAMOUS SPRINGS. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life. 
COUNTR Y QUARTERS. A Charming Love Story. By the Countess of Blessington. 
SELF-LOVE. A B'lok for Young Ladies, with their prospects in Single and Married Life contrasted. 
THE DEVOTED BRIDE ; or, FAITH AND FIDELITY. A Love Story. 

THE HEIRESS IN THE FAMILY. By author of “ Marrying for Money.” 

THE LIFE OP EDW^IN FORREST. By Colley Cibber. With Reminiscences. 

THE MAN OF THE WOULD. This is full of style, elegance of diction, and force of thought. 
OUT OF THE DEPTHS. A Woman's Story and a Woman's Book, the Story of a Woman’s Life. 
THE QUEEN’S FAVORITE ; or. The Price of a Crown. A Romance of Don Juan. 
SIX NIGHTS WITH THE WASHINGTONIANS. By T. S. Arthur. Illustrated. 
THE RECTOR’S WIPE; or, THE VALLEY OP A HUNDRED FIRES. 
THE COQUETTE; or, LIFE AND LETTERS OP ELIZA WHARTON. 
V^OMAN’S VTRONG. A Book foiAVomen. By 3Iis. Eiloart. A Nc»vel of great power. 
HAREM LIFE IN EGYPT AND CONSTANTINOPLE. By Emmeline Lott. 
THE OLD PATROON ; or, THE GREAT VAN BROEK PROPERTY. 
NANA. By Emile Zola. GAMBLING EXPOSED. By J. II. Green. 

L’ASSOMMOIR. By Emile Zola. WOODBURN GRANGE. By W. Ilowitt. 

DREAM NUMBERS. By T. A. Trollope. THE CAVALIER. By G. P. R. James. 
LOVE AND DUTY. By Mrs. Ilubback. ONE FOR ANOTHER. By II. Morford. 
A LONELY LIFE. SHOULDER-STRAPS. By II. Morford. 

THE BEAUTIFUL WIDOW. TREASON AT HOME. PANOLA! 

The xhove Books are all issued in ^'■Pe'ers&Rs' Dollar Series'' and they will be fouiid for sale 
by all Booksellers, Xews Agents, and on all Railroad trains, at One Dollar each, or copies of any one 
or m-rc, will be sent to any place, at once, post-paid, on remitting the price of the ones wanted in a letter, to 

T. B. FBTEBSON & BBOTIIEBS, Ehiladelphia. 



SOUTHWORTH’S WORKS, 

EACH IS IN ONE LARGE DUODECIMO VOLUME, MOROCCO CLOTH, GILT BACK, BRICE $1.76 EACH. 
All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 

ISHiVIAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. (Being “Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.'' 
SELF-RAISED; or, From the Depths. The Sec^uel to “Ishmael.” 

THE PHANTOM WEDDING ; or, the Fall of the House of Flint. 

THE “MOTHER-IN-LAW;” or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 

THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 

VICTOR’S TRIUMPH. The Sequel to “A Beautiful Fiend.'* 

A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 

THE LADY OF THE ISLE; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 

FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER. 

HOW HE WON HER. The Sequel to “Fair Play.” 

THE CHANGED BRIDES ; or. Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. The Sequel to “The Changed Brides.** 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow Eve Mystery. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. The Sequel to “ Cruel as the Grave.” 

THE CHRISTM.AS GUEST; or. The Crime and the Curse. 

THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 

A NOBLE LORD. The Sequel to “The Lost Heir of Linlithgow.** 
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. The Sequel to “The Family Doom.” 

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY; or. The Bride of an Evening. 

THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, The Bridal Day. 

THE THREE BEAUTIES ; or, SHANNONDALE. 

FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL’S LOVE. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or, The Children of the Isle. 

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, HICKORY HALL. 

THE TWO SISTERS; or, Virginia and Magdalene. 

THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, ORVILLE DEVILLE. 

INDIA; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. THE CURSE Of CLIFTON 
THE WIDOW’S SON; or, LEFT ALONE. 

THE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. 

ALLWORTH ABBEY; or, EUDORA. 

THE BRIDAL EVE; or, ROSE ELMER. 

VIVIA; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. 

THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. 

BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. THE DESERTED WIFE. RETRIBUTION^ 

Mrs. Southworth’s works will be found for sale by all Booksellers.^ 

Copies of any one, or more of Mrs. Southworth’ s works, will be sent to any 
place, at once, per mail, post-pa id, on remitting price of ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. PBTERSON & BliOTHEKS, Bliilacleli)lua, Tsl, 


THE WIFE’S VICTORY 
THE SPECTRE LOVER. 

THE ARTIST’S LOVE. 
THE FATAL SECRET. 

LOVE’S LABOR WON. 
THE LOST HEIRESS. 


GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS’ WORKS 

NEW AND BEAUTIFUL EDITIONS, JUST READY. 

Each Work is complete and unabridged, in one large volume. 

All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 

Mysferios of f'omrt of ?.oiidoii ; leing THE MySTERIE.S OF THE COURT 0| 
GEOIUJE THE THiriD, with the Life and Ymes of PRINCE OF WALES, o//cm’a7-rf GEORGI 
lilE FOURTH. Complete in one largo volume, bound in cloth, price §1.75 ; or in paper cover, price §1.00. 

Hose Foster ; or, the “ Second Series of the Mysteries of the Court of London.” Complete in on* 
large volume, hound in cloth, price §1.7.); or in paper cover, price §1.50. 

l'ar<»li]oe of Ili'iiiisivicSi.; or, the ‘‘Thiid Series of the Mysteries of the Court of London. 
Complete in one large 'ohime, hound in cloth, price §1.75; or in paper cover, ) iice§l.(T). 

Venelia Ti'Olawsie.v ; being the ‘Fourth Series' r lit ul conclusion of the Mysteries of theCoi 
tf London.” Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price §1.75; or in jraper cover, price §1.00. 

Saxortclalc^ or, The Court of Queen Victuiia. Complete in one large volume, bound in 
cloth, price §1.75; or in paper cover, price §1.00. 

t’oiaut <'§> rislo val. The “Sequel to Lord Sa.vondale.” Complete m one large volume, bound 
In cloth, price §1.75 ; or in paper cover, price §1.00. 

lCo>>a tiaitahoi't ; or, The .Memoirs of an Unfortunate Woman. Complete in one large volume, 
bound in cloth, price §1.75 ; or in paper cover, price §1.00. 

Wiliiiot ; or, 'J ho Memoirs of a Man Servant. Complete in one large volume, bound in 
cloth, price §1.75; or in paper cover, price §1.00. 

Tiio A Seipiel to “Joseph Wilmot.” Complete in one large volume, 

bound in cloth, price §1.75; or in paper cover, price §1.00. 

T»!0 R.Vf.‘-liosiso or, Ruth, the Conspirator’s Daughter. Complete in one large volumoi 

bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in jiaper cover, price §1.00. 

Tiio >’ecs*oinajsi*or. Rciug the ■Mysteries of the Court of Henry the Eighth. Complete U 
Jne large volume, bound in cloth, price ;fl.7.5; or in paper cover, price §1.0 '. 

Mary Price; or, The -Adventnrc.s of a Servant Maid. One voL, cloth, price §1.75 ; or in peper, §1.0Q 
Kuwtince Qtieiitin. A “Sequel to Mary Price. ’ One voL, cloth, }irice §1.7-5; or in jaipcr, §1.0(1 
Tlic Mysteries of the FoiirJ. of Kas.*ies. I'-'ico $1.(0 in paper cover; or §1.75 in clotb 
lieBiBicth. A Romance of the Highlands. One vol.. cloth, )>vice §1.75; or in paper cover, $1.00. 
■WaJIace: llie BSero of Scotlaiiil. Illustrated vilh bS plates. ITiptr, § 1 .00 ; cloth, §1.75 
Tlie fiipsy tM*lef. Beautifully Illustrated. 1 lice §1. CO in paper cover, or §1.75 in cloth. 
Robert Brtiace; the Mero Mio;;? of £4ootJaji«l. Illustrated. Paper, §1.00; cloth, $1.75 
The Opera Pancer; or, The Mysteries of London l ife. 1 rice 75 cents. 

Isabella Viiicesit; or, The Two Orphans. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 
Vivian Rertrasn *, or, A Wife’s Honor. A Sequel to “ Isabella \inc(nt.” Price 75 cents. 
The Foiiiitess of Biascelles. The Continuation to “Vivian 1 ertram.” Price 75 cents. 
I>nke of Mai'Chmatil. Being the Conclusion of'Ihe t ountess of Lnstelles.” Price 75 cent* 
The of Waterloo; or. The Horrors of tlio Iiutle Field. Price 75 cenfs. 

Pickwick Abroa<{. A Companion to the “ Pickwich Papers,” by “ Boz.” Price 75 cents. 
The Foiintess 5!in<l the B*a;g:e. One large octavo volume. Ih ice 75 cents. 

Mary £4tuai*t, <iueei» of Scots. Coinpiete in ono large octavo volume. Price 76 cent*. 
Tiie SohJier's Wife. IliU'tratod. One large octavo ^ohtme. Price 75 cen is. 

Ma.y MihtSEetoia ; or, The History of a Portnno. In one large octavo volume. Price 76 cent« 
Tlie Shoves of the Ilareoi. One largo octavo volume. Price 76 cents. 

F/iieii Percy; or. The Memoirs of an Actress. One la:ge oct.H'o volume. Price 76 cent*. 

Tf.e S>iscar<Jetl Q,ueesj. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cen s. 

A;i'»ses livelysa; or, Beauty and Pleasure. One large octavo volume. Price 76 cents. 

TSi® Massacre of tilesicoe. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Tile Parricitlc; or, Youtli’s Career in Crime. Beautifully Illustrated. Price 76 cents, 
t’iprisia; or. The Secrets of a Picture iilalJei'y. One volume. Price 60 cent*. 
The Ruiuetl Ciaaaester. With Illustrations. One large octavo volume. Price 60 cent*. 
Fife ill S’aris. Handsomely illustmted. One large octavo volume. Price 6C cents. 

Flilforil anil the Actress. One large octavo volume. Price 60 cents. 

F<i;^'ar Mou ^nrose. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

f^The, above, tvorks will be found for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents. 
71^ Copies of any one, or more, or all of Bcyn olds’ ivorks, will be sent to any plac^ 
*' 0 ’-.ce, jjost-paid, on remitting price of ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETEBSON & BKOTHEKS, Philadelphia, F 



WORKS. 


All or any will be sent free of postage, ercrywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances, 

Tlic Count of 5toiite-C's*isfo. With elegant illustrations, and portraits of Edmond DantM 
Kercedes. and Fornand. Price ?1.50 in paper cover ; or $1.75 in cloth. 

E<l*oontl A yer^uel to the ‘‘Count of Moiite-Cristo.” In one largo octavo voluma 

Price 75 cents in paper (.over, or a finer edition, bound in cloth, for $1.75. 

Tlie CoiiJitess of SIo?r4o»Cristo. With a portrait of the “Countess of Monte-Cristo ” of 
th« cover. Ono largo octavo volume, paper cover, price $1.0i)* or bound in cloth, for $1.75, 

The Three Ouardsmen; or. The Three Monsqnetaires. In o<ie large octar 
Tolume. Price 75 cents in paper cover, ov a finer edition in cloth, for $1.76. 

Twenty Years After. A Sequel to the “Three Guardsmen.” In one large octavo volumf 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition, in o re volume, cloth, for $1.75. ‘ 

ISra^elionne; the f^on of Aflios. Being the continuation of “ Twenty Years After.” In 
»ne large octavo volume. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Iron 31ask. Being tho continuation of the “Three Guardsmen,” “Twenty Years After,” 
and “ Bragclonne.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

liOnise JLa Valliere; or, the Second Series of the “Iron Mask,” and end of “The Three 
Guardsmen ” series. In one largo octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Memoirs of a Physician ; or. The Secret History of the Court of Louis the Fifteenth. 
Beautifully Illustrated. In one large octavo volume. I’aper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

The <i,noen’s Xecklace; or, The “Second Series of the Memoira of a Physician.” In one 
large octavo volume. Paper cover, price $1 .00 ; or in one volume, cloth, for $1 .75. 

Six Y<mrs loafer ; or, Taking of the Bastile. Being the “Third Series of the Memoirs of » 
Physician.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00 ; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Coiinte.ss of I'harny; or, The Fall of the French Monarchy. Being the “Fourth Series of 
the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Aiidree de Taverisey. Being the “Fifth Series of the Memoira of a Physician.” In onl 
large octavo volume. Paper cover, price $1.00; or in ono volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The fjhcvalier; or, the “Sixth Series and final conclusion of the Memoirs of a Physicia* 
Series.” In one large octavo volume. Price $1.00 in paper cover; or $1.75 in cloth. 

Joseph Ual.saivao. Dumas’ gi'eatest ^s'ork, from Mhich the play of “Joseph Balsamo” wac 
dramatize,’., by his sou, Alexander Dumas, Jr, I’rice $1.00 In paper cover, or $1.50 in cloth. 

The Conscript; or, Tlie I>ays of the First AapoScon. An Historical Kovel. In 
®ne large duodecimo volume. Price $1.50 in paper cover; ov in cloth, for $1.75. 

Camille; or. The Fate of a Coquette. (“ La Bame aux Camelias.”) This is the only 
true and complete translation of “Camille,” and it is from this translation that the Play of “Camille,” 
and the Opera of “ La Traviata” was adapted to the Stage. Paper cover, price $1.50 ; or in cloth, $1.75, 

I.ove and Fiberty; or, A Man of the People. (Rene Besson.) A Thrilling Story 
of the French llevolution of 1792-93. In one large duodecimo volume, paper cover, $1 .50 ; cloth, $1.7§. 

The Adveistnres oJ n Miirquis. Paper cover, $1 .00 ; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The Forty-Five Oiiardsaneu. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, fir $1.75. 

Hiatia of Meridor. Pajter cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.76. 

The Iron Hand. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Isabel of Kavaria, ftneen ot France. In one large ochivo volume. Pric^ 75 centa. 

Annette; or. The Fa«l.y of the Pearls. A Companion to “Camille.” Pr Ho 75 cent! 

The Fallon Aii;^el. A Story of Lovo and Life in Paris. One large volume. Price 75 oent& 

The Mohicans ot‘ Paris. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Horrors of Paris. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Man W'itll Five Wives. In one largo octavo volume. Price 75 centft. 

Sketches in France. In ono large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Felina de Fhambiire; or. The Female Fiend. Price 75 cents. 

The Twin Fientonants; or, The Soldier’s Bride. Price 75 cents. 

Madame de Fhainblay. In ono large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Black Tulip. In one large ochvvo volume. Price 60 cents. 

The C’orsicasv Brother:-?. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Oeor^ye; or. The Planter of the Isle of France. Price 50 cents. 

The Fonut of Moret. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Marria;yc Verdict. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Buried Alive. In one large octavo volume. Price 25 cents. 

Above hooks are for sale by all Booksellers and Ncios Agents, or copi^^ of ar0 
more, will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETJEKSON & BROTHERS, Philadeliiliia, P/K 


Emile Zola’s New Sooks. 


The Greatest Novels Ever Printed. 

Read wbat “liUcy Hooper” says of Emile Zola’s Works,” in the 

Philadelphia Evening- Telegraph. 

The immense success of Zola forms a curious feature in the literary history of this age. For he U 
not only honored by the critics, who recognize his strength, his pitiless audacity, his positive genius, 
but he is the idol of the lower classes on account of the truthfulness of his delineations. Now 1 do not 
join with the world at large in considering Zola immoral. He is no more immoral than a physician 
lecturing about certain phases of horror in the condition of a patient afflicted with mortal disease. 
Nobody will arise from the perusal of Zola's books possessed with a desire to imitate the actions or to 
follow the example of his heroes and heroines. His works are not demoralizing. That quality resides 
far more potently in the pages of the romances of the “ roses and raptures” school. He never makes 
vice lovely, never paints it in alluring tints, never strews its pathway with flowers. He is simply, lit- 
erally, and pitilessly true to life in his powerful delineations. He is a French Thackeray. The talent 
of the two men — the author of Vanity Fair and the author of the Axsommoir — is almost identical, 
modified in each by the conditions of their nationality and of the society for which they wrote. Place 
Thackeray in Pans, the son of Parisian parents, and Vanity Fair will become exasperated into La 
Curie. 'Transfer Zola to London, and transform him into an Englishman, and he will write The Story 
of Pendennis instead of The History o/ the Rougon-Macquarts . Nor are Zola’s books the ephemeral 
productions of an hour. They are immortal because they are true. Two hundred years from now, 
historians seeking to tell the tale of the France of the Second Empire and the Third Republic, will turn 
to Zola as to a gallery of photographs taken from the life. Zola is in literature what Holbein was in 
art. His immense hold over the sympathies of the lower orders was never more fully shown than since 
the production of the melodrama drawn from his novel of Nana, at the Ambigu. I went on Saturday 
night last, and the throng was extraordinary. And here let it be stated, once for all, that Nana is not 
an indecent play. It is superbly put upon the stage, and is admirably played. It is not a play to take 
young girls to see, assuredly, but still a very curious and accurate study of an important phase of 
Parisian life. “ Nana ” is simply a realistic "Camille." She is a frivolous, good-hearted, conscience- 
less creature, and as for remorse, or aspirations after a purer or nobler life, such ideas never cross her 
brain. She holds in her vacant soul one nobler instinct, and that is her love for her child. In this 
respect Zola has been true to life as in other details. 

LIST OF EMILE ZOLA’S GREAT WORKS. 

N^anal The Sequel to " L'Assommoir.” N^anal By Entile Zola. With a Picture of 
**Nana on the cover. Price 75 cents m paper cover, or One Dollar in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

E’Assommoir. By Emile Zola. E’Assommoir. With a Picture of “ Gervaise," 
Nana’s mother, on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper, or One Dollar in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Th^r^se Raquin. By Emile Zola, author of "A^aw^z.” With a Portrait of " Emile Zola’* 
on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or One Dollar in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Ea Car^e. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or One Dollar 
in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Magdalen Ferat. By Emile Zola. With a Picture of “Magdalen Ferat ” on the cover. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or ^1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Florinda; or, Zola’s Court of Napoleon III. By Emile Zola, 2Mi\\or oi “Nana.” 

With a Picture of“ Clorinda ” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

Albine; or. The Abbe’s Temptation. (Ea Fante de E’Abbe Mouret.) 

By Emile Zola. With a Picture of “Albine ” on the cover. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 

H41$ne: a Eove Eg>isode; or, Fne Page D’ Amour, By Emile Zola, author of 
“Nana.” With a Picture of “ Helene” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper, or ^1.25 in Cloth. 

The Rougon.Macquart Family; or, Miette. (Ea Fortune des Rougon.) 

By Etnile Zola, author oi“ Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

The Conquest of Plassans; or, Ea Conquete de Plassans. By Emile Zola, 
author oi“Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

The Markets of Paris; or, Ee Ventre de Paris. By Emile Zola, author cf 
*’Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Morocco Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents everywhere , and on all RaiU 
Road Trains, or copies of any one book, or all (f them, will be sent to any one, to any place, at once, 
wail, post-paid, on remitting the Price of the ones wanted in a letter to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa, 


** It will save many dollars.”— Mass. Reporter, 

CHEAPEST AND BEST!“^ 

PETERSOO MAGAZINE ! 

FT7Li;.-SSSB PATTSSS-ITS I 


43* A Supplement will be given in every wimb^r for 1881, containing a full-size pattern for a 
lady's or child's dress. Every subscriber will receive, during the year, twelve <iA' these patterns, win-th 
more, alotu, than the subscription price.’^^i^ 


“Peterson’s Magazine” contains, every yoar, 1000 pages, 14 steel dilates, 12 colored Berlin 
patterns, 12 iiiamnioth colored fashion plates, 24 piiges of music, and about 90U wood cuts. Its princi- 
pal embeliisiiments ai'O 

Its immense circulation enables its proprietor to spend more on embellishments, stories, &c., 
than any other. It gives more for the money, and combines more merits, than any in the world. In 
llWl, a New Feature will bo introduced in the shape of a series of 

SFLIMDIDLY ILLUSTBATEO AHTIOLES. 

ITS TALES AND NOVELLETS 

Are the best jnihlished anywhere. All the most popular writers are employed to write originally for 
*'Peterson." In 18«l FIVE OlllGTNAL ('OPYEIGHT NOVELETS will he given, hy Ann S. Stephens, 
by Frank Lee Benedict, by Jane G. Austin, by the author of “ Josiah Allen’s Wife,” and hy Sidney 
Trevor. 



Ahead of all others. These plates are engraved on steel, twtce the usual size, and are unequalled 
for beauty. They will be superbly colored Also, household and other receipts; iiud articles ou 
everything interesting to ladies. 


TERMS (Always In Advance) $2.00 A YEAR. 
^^UNPARALLELED OFFERS TO CLUBS.-^ , 


8 Copies for S3. 50 

3 “ “ 4.50 

4 Copies for SO. 50 
6 “ “ 9.00 


{ 


With a copy of the premium picture (24x20) a costly steel engrovinq 
“Gran’fatiier tells cf Yorktown,” or an illustiated Alrum, quarto, 
gilt, to the person getting up the club. 

With an extra copy of the Magazine for 1881, as a premium, to the 
person getting up the club. 


6 Copies for ^8.00 

7 “ “ 10.50 


Vrith both an extra copj^ of the Magazine for 1881, and the premium 
picture, or Album, to tbe person getting up the club. 


FQB liAMQEB CliUBB GMEA^EB I 


Address, post-paid, 

CHARLES J. PETERSON, 

306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


4 g*Specimen 3 sent gratis, if written for, to get clubs with. 


.NANA’S 

. ^ ^ A CONTINUATION OF AND / j ^ \ 

SEQUEL TO EMILE ZOLA’S NOVEL OF “ NANA,” I 

TRANSLATED FROM ADVANCE FRENCH SHEETS , 

STZE.LZ2^(3-. 1 

— ■ — — — ■ • ^1 

**NANA’S jyAVOHTER” HAS AN ILLUSTRATET) COVER, WITH 
A PORTRAIT OF THE HEROINE AND OF ALL THE 
PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN THE WORK ON IT. 


“Nana’s Daughter” is a sequel to Emile Zola’s world-famous “Nana.” It| 
will be found even more interesting than that great work — first, because it has a ydot ' 
of rare excellence which is unfolded with the utmost skill; second, because the inci- 1 
dents are intensely dramatic and exciting; and third, because everything about it is 
original and utterly out of the common track of fiction. Nana is again brought ujjon ' 
the stage, but in a manner that is not in the least rejiugnant to good taste. The authorj- : 
have refined her, and surrounded her Avitj^ every species of Parisian elegance and lux 
- ury. Her wealtli is numbered by millions, and in certain circles she is a poAver. Ot 
course, she remains a schemer and profits by the weaknesses of her admirers, but she 
is shorn of many characteristics which in Zola’s book rendered her so repulsive. Her 
daughter, Andree, is in every respect her opposite, and a sweeter or more attractive 
creature than she has never figured in a novel. Deserted in her infancy by her unfeel- 
ing mother and thrown upon the mercies of public charity, Andree is ado])ted by an : 
upright mechanic and his wife, and is brought up in the most exemplary fashion. In ' 
the course of the tale she is environed with many temptations, but her good sense and 
education enable her to withstand them all and to shine the brighter in consequence 
of them. Nana discovers her Avhereabouts and endeavors to get possession of her, her 
eiForts bringing about a series of scenes unparalleled in modern fiction, and so absorb- 
ing that they absolutely enchain attention. The authors’ aim is to show that evil,' 
instincts are not hereditary, the reverse of what is maintained by Zola, and that they j 
succeed in forcibly stating, if not in proving, their case all will admit on reading) 
“Nana’s Daughter.” The other characters are drawn in masterly fashion, Pierre 
Naviel, d’Albigny, Luke, Lucien Despretz, Margot and Madame Adele Despretz, as^ 
well as the Rajah, being personages especially instinct with life and naturalness. The j 
courtship of Andree and Lucien, with all the shadows that fall uj)on it, is a delicious! 
love-idyl that everybody will admire, so tender, felicitous and touching is it, and sol 
artistically heightened by the Rajah’s hopeless passion. “Nana’s Daughter” isj 
superbly written. It is, indeed, a phenomenal work, and that it will create a sensation ; 
equal to that produced by “ Nana” is certain. The translation, from the French, by I 
John Stirling cannot be too highly commended. It is vigorous, faithiul and excellent. 


Paper Cover, 75 Cents. Morocco doth, Gilt and Black, $1,00. 








DAUGHTERS 


Nana’s Daughter ” is for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or copies of. 
it will be sent to any one, at once, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, S' 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Pliiiadelphia, Pa. 







I 













